Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Looking down from up in the gallery, Don Sonnellino was failing to spot a particular target. His shadowed face didn’t follow his gaze as it swept through the crowd. His eyes temporarily lingering on spots of grey amidst black and white, before moving on once he realized they weren’t who he was looking for.

At this point, it felt like a sisyphean task.

With every grey-skinned robloxian that came and went through his casino, he wondered why he was still bothering to spot them out like this. It’s been maybe close to half an hour at this point—he had to move on.

Breathing out a sharp sigh through his nose, he turned away. He’d just have to tell his men to go out and see if there was any news on where the idiot went. After all, they had told him that they’d stop by at some point. Even though they’d made that promise three days ago.

His smile strained a little. Which at least helped to have the patrons steer clear out of his way.

By the Admins, he felt the urge to get a cigar.

At the fact that he wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for their second-hand smoking, he clenched a fist.

He’d just have to settle for a can of bloxy cola. Eventually, he came upon the employee-restricted elevator. Entering after in-putting his passcode, he selected the underground level before stepping in.

The descent felt especially slow right then.

Once he’d reached the floor, he quickly stepped out. Making way to the central room, he looked around for his men. Upon seeing Contractee and Consigliere chatting easily, he turned toward them.

“Boys,” he said, tempering back his frustrations. He wasn’t about to take it out on his workers, let alone with how it was that fool he was irked with right now.

They looked up at him. Their casual ease tapered off at seeing his expression. “Yeah, boss?” Contractee said, both he and Consigliere stepping away from where they had been seated at a table.

“Someone scammed us?” Consigliere asked, frowning at the prospect. “We’ll ready up in seconds.”

At their eagerness, his irritation settled somewhat. “That’s not it, but I appreciate your haste,” he said, his smile quirking. “No, it’s a simple matter. Chance hasn’t come in for a good while. So, I want you two to go out and see if anyone’s spotted him around.”

Their stances relaxed, but now they looked puzzled. Without thinking, Consigliere asked, “Have ya called them?”

Contractee belatedly toed his foot. Consigliere jumped a bit, before realizing what he’d asked.

“Uh. I mean—”

Mafioso merely sighed.

“I already have. Straight to voicemail.”

Although he answered his question, he narrowed his eyes at him. Consigliere looked away, sheepish. “Be sure to check their usual hangouts,” he told them, deciding to try and dismiss the lapse in judgment. “They didn’t mention anything outside of the city, so they shouldn’t be hard to find. If you get a hint otherwise though,” he added, faintly trailing off. “Then let me know. Immediately.”

At his orders, the two nodded.

“Of course.”

“On it, boss,” Consigliere added, gathering his nerve.

With that said, he turned away. “Get to it then.”

The pair watched as he made way for his office. Once he’d entered it, the door closing behind him, did Contractee turn to Consigliere.

“Hell was that?”

Exasperated, he was mindful to keep his voice down. “What? I was just wondering if it was serious or not!”

Contractee stared at him. “Serious? What are you—”

“By Telamon—you know damn well what I mean.”

He continued to stare. Then, realizing what he meant, did his confusion shift into embarrassment. “Oh. Still! You can’t just ask that of the boss without thinking!”

“I know!”

Then, came a voice. A muffled one from the office.

“You better be strategizing out there.”

Stiffening, the pair looked over in panic.

“Yeah! We are!”

“We’re heading out now, sir! Sorry for the delay!”

Figuring it was best to continue this outside, they made haste for the employee elevator. Inside, Consigliere pressed for the first floor.

“You’re so slow sometimes.”

“Says the one who asked about the boss’s numbers.”

“… do ya think they’re making passes yet?”

The first floor couldn’t come quicker, Contractee felt.

.

..

…

.

It was evening now.

He was at his desk. Completed paperwork set aside. The current batch at his desktop was just a minor project. One he decided to pick up on once he’d finished the more urgent work.

It was just some banal stuff. Something involving the mayor’s protection money and the city hall’s security.

One of his family members had brought it up to him, but he felt they could’ve overlooked it with how they had gone ahead and made a blueprint of how and where his lackeys should be positioned.

Restless, he leaned back on his chair.

He kinda wanted another bloxy cola. Or to just go home and play with Gubby. Something that would help clear his mind enough for him to get back into work.

Spinning in his chair a little, he caught a glance out the window. Through the bulletproof glass, he could see the light of sunset peering through the city. Soft, near golden hues lit up the few clouds above the sky. With buildings blocking the horizon, their shadowed frames and lit windows added onto the sight.

He stared for a good while.

By now, Chance would be pestering him for a game. Either having him play Poker or even Go Fish with his men. The times they played with just the two of them normally ended up with them messing around; snacks that Chance brought with them in hand as they tried to blatantly cheat at the game. At that point, he’d either call them out on it or just cheat himself.

It was a great way to kill time.

Looking away from the sunset, he glanced around his office. Maybe he had some liquor stashed somewhere. Hell, he’d even go for a cigar, even though he knew damn well how unhealthy that habit was.

He sat there for a bit, stewing in his thoughts. After a point, he stood up. Sitting here alone wasn’t doing him any favors. So he figured he’d go home early today.

Leaving his office, he spotted Caporegime at a table. He was simply going through his phone, a lollipop in his mouth as he seemed to be scrolling through some social media or other. Upon hearing the office door open, he looked up. Catching his gaze, Caporegime greeted him with a nod of his head.

“Sir. Heading out?”

Looking away, Sonnellino bowed his head. “I’ve decided to head home earlier than usual is all.”

“Understood. I’ll keep the fort down like always.”

“Thank you.”

With that, he made his way to the elevator.

He drove home without any issue. Although Caporegime usually drove him around, that wasn’t the case when he was heading home. Throughout the drive there, he was wondering what he could do. He had some minor chores and cleaning to do. However, his mind practically settled on playing with Gubby.

Pulling in, putting in his passcode for the gates, parking, and entering his mansion was a simple task. As he walked in, he took off his coat and fedora. “Gubby?” He called as he placed the clothing onto the coat rack by the front. His ears raised as he heard scuffling in Gubby’s room. His smile brightened.

Walking over, he stopped as his energetic rabbit met him halfway down the hall. Upon spotting him, the little beast quickly bounded over to him.

Now at his feet, Gubby’s honks of happiness were even more pronounced. “Aw,” he coed, kneeling down. “Missed me, did you?”

Excited, the white rabbit pawed at his knee.

At their insistence, his previous tension melted away. Deciding to play with them then and there, he sat down on the floor. Uncaring how his ass would hurt later on from the marble flooring, he went to scratch at Gubby’s favorite spot. Going right at the base of their chin, the rabbit’s foot thumped against the floor in satisfaction. Once he felt they were sufficiently appreciative, he withdrew his hand.

Honking again, they stared up at him. Something he likes to believe is a sign of gratitude from them. “Anything for you, you beast.”

Still hyperactive, Gubby turned back to their room and booked it. Figuring they wanted to play with their toys with him, he got up. At least then, he’d have the pillows he left for them as a proper seat.

It’s been a while since he entertained the white bundle of fur, who was now sleeping comfortably on his lap. Idly, he stroked at their fur. He’d been lucky to have propped himself up against the stack of pillows; otherwise, he’d surely have a stiff back at this point.

Breathing a sigh, he was now left alone to think.

Something he’d hoped to avoid when he got home. Nevertheless, here he was.

Looking down at Gubby, he quietly envied how the rabbit managed to tire itself out already. Let alone have him to sleep on. He softly laughed.

“You’re a spoiled thing.”

Gubby merely snoozed. Settled perfectly on his lap.

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the pillows. “Absolutely spoiled,” he muttered.

The silence resumed.

Damn, did he wish he had put on a show or something on the tv he had in here. Not that it’d have little to any volume, but it’d help distract him.

Eventually, he thought back to Chance. A given, considering how they’ve been missing for a while.

He last saw them three days ago.

They had just been hanging around in one of his safehouses, having agreed to meet up there earlier on. As for why they agreed to the safehouse, it was one of the few that had a decent portion of snacks.

“Why do you want snacks?” He’d asked back when he’d asked which safehouse had the most snacks.

Chance had scoffed, as if it was obvious—

—before, he'd have taken offense to that—

—“It’s a surprise, that’s why,” he said, a particular grin on his lips as he threw him a wink.

It was a moment before he told him the address.

With that, they agreed on a date before moving to another topic. Even as they spoke warmly, occasionally chuckling or Chance full on laughing at some joke either of them said, did he think over the conversation. He was curious, to say the least—

—before, he’d have suspected the worst. Would have indirectly threatened him, a backstab fully expected—

—so when he arrived at the safehouse, not accompanied by his men and with a shopping bag containing his own favorite snacks in hand, he was surprised to see him pull up in a car. Parking into the junkyard of an alleyway nearby, he got out with a beaming grin. “Hey, Maf!” He greeted him, ecstatic.

He stared.

Seeing his puzzled look, he paused on his way to the passenger side. “Something wrong?”

“You own a car?”

He blinked. Then, looking back at the aforementioned car, he exclaimed.

“Ohhhhhhhhh—this one isn’t mine. But I do own some cars, yeah,” he said, absolutely nonchalantly.

He took a moment to process that.

“So you stole that one?”

“What? No!” He turned back to the passenger side. “Not this time at least. This is just a rental.”

He was about to comment on that. Then, remembering how filthy rich he is, he dropped it. “Hm. What do you have there?” He asked instead.

Glancing back at him, Mafioso could practically see the anticipation on his face.

“This, my dear mob friend, is a movie projector!” As he said that, he had opened the door and pulled out a pretty sizable box. It was hastily wrapped in gift wrapping, which was evident by the torn paper.

“… why is it gift wrapped?”

Chance opened his mouth. Then closed it.

“… forget that.”

Amused, he chuckled.

“I’m touched.”

A bit embarrassed, he nevertheless puffed out his chest. Despite its size, he managed to keep it uplifted as he did. “Good! This is premium stuff!” Then, looking off to the side, he added. “I was originally gonna try and enter a theater and buy their projector, but they told me that those only work for big screens. I mean—I figured as much. Big projector, big screen.”

Mafioso felt his smile stretch.

“… and you went anyway?”

At the comment, he frowned at him. “Hey! I can always just return it! Maybe use the refund money to get some ice cream for myself too. How about that?”

Figuring he’d stop so that they’d finally head in, he brought a hand up amicably. “Of course. I apologize.”

His grin returning, he cockily made his way to the building. “Mhm. It’s good to appreciate a good gift.”

He would’ve hated his arrogance. Considered him an idiot for believing him a friend when they’ve never worked under a business like his family’s—

—he nodded over at the safehouse’s entrance. “It’s over here. Let me enter the passcode first.”

“Ooooo. High-tech.”

In-putting the code, he didn’t mind if Chance saw it. Once it unlocked, he made sure to hold the door open for him. “There’s a table nearby you can place it on.”

Entering, his grin eased into an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Maf.”

He always smiled. But this time, it returned his warmth. “Just be sure to watch your step,” he said, not fully recalling the last time he’d used the place. It wasn’t particularly big, as it was initially just a hideout when his family’s influence began. Now, it was merely here. Another of many empty lots that they owned. It’d otherwise be empty, hadn’t it been for the party his men had the last time they were here.

Upon recalling that, did he hear Chance whistle. “Huh. Looks like someone’s been here alright.”

Exiting the hallway, he could see what they meant. The otherwise dull room was littered with trash. Solo cups were on the floor, alongside crushed cans of bloxy cola, discarded paper plates, and plastic forks. He didn’t think they had made such a mess the last time they were here.

“Think the guy who did this left?”

He considered lying. “No. This wasn’t a squatter. This is just from the last time my men and I were here.”

Looking over at him, his smile drew up into a grin. “Hah! Looks like you guys had a hell of a time.”

Breathing out a sigh, he moved past him. “Try not to snap your back while you’re laughing there, gambler.”

He heard their scoff. “I’ll have you know, I work out.”

“Mhm.”

Coming up to a table, Chance set the projector down. “See? I handled that all by myself.”

Clearing the table by simply moving the discarded plates and plastic cutlery aside, Mafioso placed the grocery bag down. “Can ya also handle setting it up then?” He said, earning an incredulous look.

“Last I checked, this was supposed to be a nice little get-together. A mutual ‘let’s be lazy’ thing.”

His smile cracked into a grin. “Says the one who bought a large projector instead of a mobile one.”

Pursing his lips, he leaned against the table. “Y’know, you’re one of the most ungrateful guys I’ve met.”

Shrugging, he rummaged through the grocery bag. “I’m just makin’ observations.”

Chance scoffed, but stood back up. Hearing his approach, he glanced his way. Having stopped beside him, he was clearly attempting to see what he bought. Grabbing a bag of jerky, he ripped the bag open. Oddly enough, Chance seemed disappointed.

“What?” He asked before popping a piece into his mouth. Seeing how he bought it from some convenience store, it was a step above the usual gas station jerky. While he chewed, Chance seemed to think through his response.

“So that’s what you eat during a movie?”

Oh. He nearly snorted. “‘course not,” he said after swallowing. “I’m just snacking. That a crime?”

“It would be if you only brought jerky.”

Then, seemingly spurred on by something, he tried peeking into the grocery bag. “What else ya got?”

He wouldn’t have really cared about what he saw. So when he swiped his bag back into his arms, his usual smile widening at his following frown, it was absolutely just so that he could mess with him. “Seeing how you’re so damn nosy, you’ll just have to wait until you get that projector up and running.”

“… man.”

His smile wide, he decided to pass the time by cleaning up the worst of the trash. Man, he didn’t think they’d made such a mess before.

By the time Chance came into the makeshift dining room, Mafioso had quietly moved the vast majority of the trash under a tarp. While he made a mental note to hire a cleaning crew for the place, he turned to see Chance enter with a ragged look.

Baffled, he was about to comment on it when he waved it off. “Isn’t important,” he breathed, leading him to wonder if he’d even considered the optics of such a grand projector. He already knew the answer. “It’s ready,” he said, leaning against the doorway. Trying to look far more collected than he really was, his skewed fedora and slight sweaty appearance had Mafioso pause. He could feel his smile skew.

“… shut up.”

His grin cut through.

“You didn’t prepare at all.”

His ‘collected’ look fell apart flat. Groaning, he pointed out the room. “Just go sit while I get my own snacks.”

At that, he made a show of squishing him against the door as he walked past. His indignant yelp at the act felt like a fitting punishment for the bossy comment. “Don’t take too long,” he said, utterly amused.

He caught him being censored from a swear, before finally seating himself down the biggest couch here. Seeing as it was a safehouse, the couch was unsurprisingly cheap, but he lounged in it all the same.

His bag of snacks in hand, he idly took in the scenery. The projector was working fine, but he could see the thick cables that connected it to a laptop. Light facing the least occupied wall here, it was left at a menu.

When Chance came back—his own grocery bag of snacks in hand while one held a sad, limp chocolate ‘bar,’—did he ask, “What are we watching?”

At the question, his sulky frown shifted into a grin. “Man, you’re gonna love this!”

Throwing himself down on the other couch here, he picked up a remote Mafioso hadn’t noticed and immediately began the film. “This film’s hilarious!”

It was pretty amusing. He knew that Chance wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to comment on what he loved about the scenes, let alone cackling about jokes he apparently made with a close friend. On its own, Mafioso didn’t think he’d care all that much for the film. Which merely helped improve their hangout as Chance went on idly talking. At one point, he’d even had to pause the film as he recounted a hilarious joke he had with that aforementioned friend—one that had even Mafioso grinning at the sheer absurdity of it.

It was some point in the middle of the film when a ringtone went off.

Mafioso’s ears stiffened. It definitely wasn’t his own cellphones. His own pair were sitting quietly in his breast pocket. With only one other person here, he looked over to see Chance retrieving his own cell.

It wasn’t a default ringtone. So he was surprised when he saw how he didn’t pause the film to answer it. Frowning down at the screen, he canceled the call.

“Sorry,” he said, tossing his phone aside. “Just spam.”

He wouldn’t have thought more of it, hadn’t it been for the tension in Chance’s face when he saw the call. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he tried to move on.

However, as the movie went on, he found himself looking back at him more often than not.

His gaze was on the screen, but there were some traces of that tension still there. It was pretty clear to him that he was lost in thought.

“Who was it?”

Brought back to the present, he turned to him. “Huh?”

He nodded over at the discarded phone. “The caller.” Craning his head, he threw out a simple guess. “Debtors?” He asked. It was more of a joke, though, considering how it was Chance’s personal cellphone.

“Oh. Uh.” Bringing a hand up to tousle through his hair, he breathed a heavy sigh while looking off to the side. “No. It’s just… iTrapped. He’s just upset with me.” His arm propped atop a knee, he rested his chin on a palm. “Apparently, he’s mad that I wasn’t able to secure a deal for him in time. Not that he mentioned anything about a deadline before bringing it up.”

He watched as he stared off into the distance. It takes him a moment to recall the last time he looked this strained, and once he had, he frowned.

He couldn’t believe it's been nearly a year since they had their worst argument to date. One that also involved Chance trying to help out a new friend of his.

Recalling how it ended up with Chance tossed aside once the damn debtor had been found, did he feel compelled to follow through this line of discussion.

“What did he want?”

He glanced his way, before looking off again.

“It was a limited item,” he said after some time. Fully aware of what he admitted, he laughed. “I mean, you’d think he’d understand how I’d have trouble with that.”

No wonder. Even with Chance’s immense fortune, financially and serendipitously, there was a whole process that came with limited items. Even more so when it came to limiteds that came from the Admins.

He hummed. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Yeah. I dunno. I’m just giving him some space before I can make it up to him somehow. It usually helps.”

The movie was just white noise at this point.

Neither of them watched whatever was happening on screen. Not that they had been devoted to it before, but now, the atmosphere had changed.

Sitting there, Mafioso thumbed over a trash wrapping. The soft crinkling seemed loud, despite how the projector was still playing audio. He felt restless.

“What about you?”

When Chance looked up at him, lips agape in confusion, did he realize that he’d asked that aloud.

“… huh?”

Seeing how he’d said something, he slowly continued on. “Well, what about you? From the sounds of it, you were handling the usual bull that comes from limiteds. Though, that’s only ‘cause he asked you for it.”

He stared at him, seemingly not understanding still.

Shifting in place, he sighed.

“He asked a big favor from you, Then, after you weren’t able to meet that favor, he’s upset with you?”

Thinking over it, he scoffed. Heavily. Irritably.

“If anything, he oughta appreciate the gesture.”

As he said it, he recalled seeing iTrapped a few times. From what he’s seen, the guy seemed secluded. Even when he’d been with Chance each time, he seemed content to just stand behind and watch things play out. He hadn’t really thought much about him, seeing as he usually left when Chance was with others, but now his presence was grating him.

He was brought out of his thinking by a soft laugh.

“He’s a bit much sometimes, I won’t lie. But he means well, I’m sure. After all, he’s stuck by me for this long.”

He worked his jaw.

“What’s he done for you?”

At that, he paused.

He watched as he tried to name a gift he’d received from them. Only to purse his lips before replying, “Well, he’s covered my tab now and then. Hell, sometimes he invites me out to eat.”

He stared him down.

“Takeout isn’t the same as trying to get a limited.”

Exasperated, he threw his arms up. “Alright, alright. iTrapped isn’t really one for gifts. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s been there for me.”

He held back his response. After all, as he thought through his own relationship with him, he wondered if he even had a ground to stand on.

They’ve hung out. They ate together. At one point, they had even ended up sleeping under the same roof.

Yet… something about it now had him reconsidering.

“Uh. Hey.”

At the voice, he looked back at him. He hadn’t realized he’d delved over his own thoughts until now, so seeing Chance staring back at him in concern was…

“I, uh, didn’t mean to imply anything against you.”

He blinked.

Then, with the silence still there, Chance went on. “Y’know. iTrapped’s helped me out, yeah, but… so have you.” He’d started it off playfully, but as he finished, his voice trailed off. His tone softened.

He couldn’t help but feel that it was genuine.

He could feel his throat working.

Closing his eyes, he clicked his tongue. “Someone has to make sure you don’t end up in a ditch. Just my luck that it ended up being me, huh.”

Laughing at that, from beneath his fedora, he managed to catch his beaming grin.

“What? I thought you didn’t want me dead?”

He stared for a bit, before scoffing.

“Forget what I said. You’re insufferable.”

His laugh nearly had him smiling again.

“Thanks, Maf.”

He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a motion on his lap. Looking down, Gubby had woken up. Leaving their little sleeping spot, they made way for the automatic water bowl he kept for them.

As they drank, loudly lapping away at the water, did Sonnellino think through the memory.

He still lingered on the moments they’d shared. How they’d somehow managed to get past that particular incident. How they steadily rebuilt their friendship. How Chance had shared the fact he had his own pet rabbit. Had showed him the apartment he lived in. Had mentioned that he had a brother, even if nothing further than that was shared.

He remembered how he told him that he had a nephew he occasionally looked over. One that he sometimes considered a little brother.

Looking back, he wondered why he had shared that fact. Even then, he already knew why.

It’s because of how Chance had confided in him.

Breathing out a sigh, he stood up.

He really ought to sleep. All this thinking wouldn’t help him find the idiot. Let alone over stuff like that.

Stretching, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry, bud,” he said as Gubby turned back to him. “I gotta sleep. I’ll play with ya tomorrow. Promise.”

The rabbit honked, but remained by the water bowl. Thankfully, the little beast was satisfied. For now…

Taking the opportunity, he went to his bedroom.

Although the mansion was—unsurprisingly—spacious, he decided to just crash out in the bedroom located behind the staircase. Something he’s done numerous times when it came to nights like these.

Entering the room, he began his routine. Undressing, dressing back up, it was a near haze before he found himself laying on his side.

He decided he’d personally check in on Spade. He doubted that Chance would leave the rabbit alone for this long, but he wasn’t about to forget the creature. Let alone if something had happened to the gambler.

With that in mind, he tried to drift off.

.

..

.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he didn’t sleep.

Not after the near nap he had earlier.

Even so, he fought against sitting up. Not only would he just waste energy trying to find something to occupy his mind, but the majority of his work was located in his casino’s office. The work he had scattered here wasn’t the usual complicated files he toiled over, so it would hardly be worth the effort.

Laying there, a thought came to him. One he felt should have come to him at once.

He could use his dream-weaving to see where Chance is.

He nearly jumped into action—his ears lifting off the bed as he concentrated. However, came another thought, one that had him pause.

He technically could use his dream-weaving. However, it felt like he’d be breaching their privacy.

They didn’t know of his powers. So he could very well likely manage to get in, see how they are, before drifting off. Just a mere dream, as he usually was. Only… he’s never really used his powers like that. Let alone for something as tame as checking in on someone. How would he go about that without revealing his presence?

As he thought about it, he shifted onto his side.

Usually, all he’d need to do was enter a person’s sleeping mind to brute-force the information out of them. Whether or not he revealed himself was up to if he was sending them a message. This was different. He already had made contact with Chance’s remnants; it was practically as constant as those of his men. And he has entered his men’s dreamscapes. Only, those were when they had gotten themselves kidnapped from working under him or some such.

Again, it felt like he’d be trespassing.

Frustrated, he sat up.

He didn’t know why he was so caught up in the formalities of it. For all he knew, Chance would probably just consider it a weird dream. They’d probably even forget about it at some point.

Legs over the side of his bed, he leaned onto his knees.

With how he was so restless over it, he reluctantly decided against it.

It was stupid. But it was dumber to lose sleep over it. Dragging a hand down his face, he rested it against the nape of his neck. “Damn gambler,” he muttered. He’d just have to search alongside his men tomorrow. With how crafty Contractee was and Consigliere’s charisma, they’d eventually find Chance around.

As he laid back down, his mind still going over how their search would go, he idly curled in on himself.

Once he found them, he’d chew their ear off.

.

..

…

..

.

Leaving the bar, he stiffly went down the sidewalk.

Inside, he’d picked up on how the unknown fool now laid flat on the floor was asking for medical aid.

He clicked his tongue.

That’s what the man got for thinking he could take out his frustrations out on him of all people. Regardless, he did manage to get some information about Chance.

They had definitely been here before, seeing how the guy now bleeding out of cracked teeth had stormed up to him at the mention of their prominent luck. Yelling something or other about a lousy bet, he listened long enough to figure that Chance had been here for just some hours before heading to leave. Something that the genius of a man didn’t take kindly.

Coming up to a crosswalk, he brooded there. The light ahead an irritating red as cars passed through.

At least the jogger gave him a wide berth.

He decided to repay them by glowering in silence.

Where the hell were they?

When he woke up this morning, he called his men ahead of time to tell him his plans for the day. Checking in on Spade, then taking up a sector of the city to search for the damned gambler.

He hadn’t really thought anyone would be at their apartment when he arrived. So when he walked in, using the key Chance had given him to find a man laying in his couch—dressed in baggy, camouflage sweatpants and shirt, and wearing an ushanka with familiar shades—did he get tense.

“Oh,” the guy said, clearly surprised. “Uh. Hey?”

His hands clenched. “Hm. You a squatter?”

He gaped back at him. “Uh, no? Who are you?”

Staring at him, Mafioso was put off by how they seemed so familiar to Chance. Their cadence, their grey-skin, their lithe build—it was uncanny.

He already hadn’t been in the best mood. So, without really thinking, he slowly strode forward.

“I’m a friend of Chance. And you?”

At that, he settled down. “I’m also a friend of his.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the week’s frustrations pulling at him, but he still didn’t trust the man. This apartment was pretty secluded, but he wasn’t about to dismiss the possibility of him being a straggler. He could dismiss the similarities as a fluke on his part.

“Have you seen him around?”

This time, he was the one to stare at him suspiciously. “I dunno. Who’s askin’?”

Having enough of this, he brought out his sword. “Whoever you are, you’d do well to listen.”

Interestingly enough, the man pulled out a gun. “I could say the same about you, man.”

They stared one another down.

Before Mafioso figured he’d do Chance a favor in killing the intruder off, did he see Spade.

To his surprise, the dark grey continental giant was laying peacefully in the stranger’s lap. Upon the man’s movement did the giant bundle stir.

Quietly, they turned to look at him.

He was… surprised, to put it mildly.

It’d taken him some weeks for the giant thing to eventually come around to his presence. So the fact that they had been sleeping comfortably was a sign.

“… I’m not letting you take the rabbit.”

Looking back at the stranger, he slowly withdrew his sword. Standing there, he was put off his momentum. “I… came here to check up on Spade.”

Although his shades were pitch black like Chance’s, Mafioso could imagine the way his eyes widened. After a moment, the man put down his gun.

“Huh. Guess you do know ‘em, since you know Spade.”

He fought against a sigh. “I do.”

The man stared at him for a second, before grinning. “Oh. I know who you are, now.”

Laying back down, he idly scratched Spade’s chin. “You’re that Mafioso guy.” Then, failing to hide his smirk, he looked away. “Ignore me. Just remembering something he told me.”

Something about that had his ears tense up.

“… have you seen them?” He instead asked again.

As odd as it was to meet someone else who Chance trusted with their apartment, let alone Spade, he wasn’t about to overlook the opportunity to find them.

Pausing, the man observed him. “Not for some days,” he said eventually, seemingly deciding he was trustworthy. Something that Mafioso silently appreciated. “Last he messaged me, he told me was going out southeast. Something about a new joint.”

It shouldn’t have mattered, but he decided to ask anyway. “Is he usually gone for this long?”

The man thought over it, before shrugging.

“Not really… but you oughta know by now how good of an escape artist he is, hm?”

He did. Still, he wasn’t about to let up now.

“He promised me something is all.”

“Oh. Hm.” Frowning now, he tilted his head. “Guess that is pretty unlike him. Considering you know ‘bout this place and all.” When he sighed, he accidentally jostled Spade, who took offense and hopped off. Muttering an apology, he seemed off in thought.

“Can’t say it’s a good sign, that’s for sure.”

That, Mafioso could agree with.

“I appreciate it,” he said simply, turning for the door. “When I find him, I’ll be sure to tell him as much.”

The man laughed.

“I’m sure you will. Just don’t get too crazy about it.”

That whole encounter had been some hours ago now. The crosswalk’s light finally shined green, letting him cross into the other side.

He tried using his phone to scope out whatever new bars or restaurants Chance could have possibly been interested in. So far, he’s managed to end up mostly frustrating himself with the search.

Even with the latest update on Chance’s last whereabouts, he felt like he was scouring for a needle in a haystack. He was close, but it felt aimless.

Pulling up the search bar, he suddenly wondered just what kind of restaurants they’d even like.

Pausing before a store, he found himself thinking.

Had he and Chance ever eaten out?

There had been that time he found them buying from a coffeehouse, but would they go that far for a drink? It could’ve been a new bar—maybe one that allowed card games. He could see how Chance would gravitate toward that, especially if the establishment was new and ripe for under-the-table betting.

If not, then he had no idea what else they’d go to.

Coming up to the next newly opened bar, he was about to head in when he heard a commotion. His ears tensing, he honed into the source back to an alley. One set right beside the bar.

It was likely nothing involving his search. After all, he’d already ignored some minor robberies on his way here. What would his interference help with here?

It must’ve been his impatience that had him approach the alleyway instead of the bar.

Within it, only some ways away from public eye, were a pair of robloxians cornering a man. From the looks of it, the man was pretty young. Leading him to assume that this had something to do with naivety. He angled himself away from the edge of their sight. His ears honing onto the man’s labored breathing.

“… I dunno who he was…”

The sound of a fist landing against a stomach was familiar to him, let alone how the man keened in turn.

“So what? You saw us chasing him. You should’ve known better than to get in the way.”

“I didn’t know—”

The man’s words fell into a sharp cry as they were hit. Likely a punch, if the blunt impact was anything.

“Enough. Did he say where he was going?”

From the sounds of it, this was just the usual gang activity. Frowning, he looked off down the street. He’d already known that there were other gangs and mobs near his family’s territory. Still, it was one thing to see how they were operating outside of his authority. Regardless, he figured that this didn’t involve him.

He turned to leave—

“… those black-out shades can’t be helpful.”

—only to halt at those words.

No. Surely not.

“Shut up. Unless you saw where that smug gambler went, you’ve got no say in our conversation, dude.”

Of course.

His smile widened. One that sharply contrasted against the way his jaw tensed, his hands clenched.

Of course the idiot got himself into trouble.

Silently, he strode towards them.

Upon seeing him, the man the pair had been interrogating stiffened. “You! Please help me!”

At their words, the pair whirled to face him.

“Who the hell are you?” One of them demanded. The two men were wearing some casual clothes. Jeans, hoodies, and some bandanas that bore the same shade of purple that scattered around their outfits. He made a mental note to look up the gang later.

Mafioso’s smile stretched a bit.

“The guy you mentioned,” he said, standing some ways away. “Black-out shades, grey skin, 6’00” feet tall. Is that right?”

The man against the wall nodded frantically.

“Yes! Yeah, that’s him alright!”

One of the gangsters whirled at the man. “Shut up!” Turning back, they shared a look with their friend. “Seeing as you know ‘em,” they began, already tense with irritation before he intervened. “Mind paying back for the stunt your friend pulled?”

The muscles in his jaw worked up. “That’s bold of you.”

“Bold? After the chip our guys had to deal with, I’d say it’s only fair.” As they said that, the other gangster retrieved a gear. A katana. Seeing their co-worker pull the blade out, they pulled out their own gear. Which was just another katana.

Had it been a gun or something other, then maybe he’d have to think through his plan. As it was, he didn’t hold back his scoff of a laugh. “Ah. Great.”

Thinking he was nervous, one of the gangsters grinned. Without any hesitation, they lunged forward.

It wasn’t hard to read them. Let alone drive his sword through their chest at their momentum. Stumbling, the grunt coughed. Pinned upon his sword, he watched as they slumped. Not wasting any time, he cast the soon-to-be corpse aside.

“Best to reconsider your next move,” he warned.

Of course, the other didn’t listen.

Eyes wide, they nevertheless rushed forward. Blade raised to strike him down. Yet with how loose their posture was, he could see how it was a fake-out. Moving accordingly, he raised his own sword to slash at their abdomen. His sword met their flesh before their blade had even moved aside.

Stepping away, he watched as they fell to the floor. Clutching their wound, they shuddered.

He stared for a bit, before walking over. Before the begging that came from the recognition in their eyes left them, he had already driven his blade through. Piercing their heart in one smooth blow.

Retracting his sword, he looked over at the last man. “Where did you last see him.”

The man’s eyes, wide at the casual murders, jumped back to him. Staring for a moment, their words then came out in a rush. “Yeah! Y-yeah, the gray guy!” Pressing against the wall, they gestured down the alleyway. “They went that way! That’s all I know!”

His smile strained a bit. “Quit yelling.”

The man straightened up.

“… sorry…”

He had already moved down the alley by the time they’d uttered their apology.

Making his way down the filthy path, he wondered if he’d wasted precious discretion by killing those men. After all, the man could have lied about seeing Chance if it meant he’d have helped. Which would make the eventual police presence over those deaths a needless hassle. Dammit.

You idiot. You owe me at this point.

He was surprised at how big these alleys were. There was something to be said about Chance’s luck at evading gang members that left him in the lurch. Let alone something else over how they found themselves getting hounded by said gang members.

Whatever it was, it absolutely wasn’t helping him.

He was about to turn down an alleyway when he heard something. Halting, he listened intently.

Approaching footsteps. Labored breathing.

He waited. Then, he lightly scented the air.

It was difficult, considering the filthy haze of trash tainting the air. But he recognized that scent.

Silently, he stood by while they approached. Coming down one of the paths, they were looking behind themselves. Then, once they turned to look ahead, did they finally see him standing there.

He stared. “Chance.”

Blinking, they stared back.

“Oh. Hey Maf.”

Grinning now, they tilted their head. “Hell are you doing here? Wasn’t expecting to see ya, gotta say.”

Smile strained, he replied, “You’ve been gone for nearly a week now.”

“… really?”

He stared them down. “Yes.”

“Huh. Guess I lost track of time. My bad, my bad.”

Raising a brow, he looked them over.

Chance wasn’t exactly one to keep his suits tidy. But with how disheveled and stained it was right now, he figured that they’d ended up fighting at some point. “What happened to you?”

“Hm?” To his disbelief, Chance seemed distracted. Which only served to have him raise his guard.

“Uh, nothing much. Just might’ve gotten into some trouble is all. Y’know, the usual stuff,” he said.

“… such as?”

Noticing how stern he’d gotten, they paused. Then, awkwardly bringing a hand to parse through their hair beneath their fedora, they breathed a nervous chuckle. “Well… I might’ve pissed off some gang members. Which they’ve been chasing me down.”

He merely stared down at them.

“You’re a damn idiot.”

“Hey! I was just helping someone out! How was I supposed to know the guy I was helping was being bothered by some gangsters?”

At that, he scoffed. “You could’ve left it alone, for one.”

This time, they met his gaze. “C’mon Maf. You know me better than that by now.” Their grin was back.

It was a moment before he replied.

“Unfortunately.”

Snickering, they went forward, playfully bumping him with their elbow. “Aw, come on—you love me.”

The base of his ears tensed. “Quit that.” Turning around, he nodded for them to follow. “Let’s go back.”

Behind him, he saw how their smile brightened. “Don’t remind me—I’ve been missing my bunny for a bit.”

“Spade?” He asked, quicker than expected.

They blew out a scoff. “Duh. I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got a friend over at my place.” Looking guilty, they lowered their head as they walked. “Still miss ‘em.”

After a moment, he decided to tell them about it. “I passed by your apartment. Spade is healthy.”

He couldn’t miss how Chance’s eyes widened at the admission. The way their concern slipped into relief had his hesitation completely cast aside.

“Oh, thank Telamon…”

He’d have left it at that, but apparently, they weren’t stopping there.

“Thanks, Maf. I really appreciate it.”

He tried not to think of that smile. “Of course.”

As they went down the alley, his own smile hiked up. “Now do you see what altruism gets you?”

Somehow, he knew that they were grinning at him. “You’re just mad that everyone’s scared of you.”

“Hm. Everyone?”

Chance paused at that. “Everyone but me of course.”

The click of his tongue was instinctual. “Idiot.”

“Italian.”

Before he could retort, a gunshot landed on the wall beside them.

All at once, he took a stance. Pulling out his sword, he whirled to face the gunman.

Behind them, standing some ways off, was a robloxian. White, with some odd horns on their head, their black eyes widened at seeing him. “Uh-! Move outta the way!”

Although they were hesitant to aim at him, they immediately pointed their gun at Chance.

“####,” Chance muttered, stepping away from him.

Before he could even threaten the presumed gangster, they took another shot.

He knew he couldn’t deflect it fast enough at their distance.

“Maf!” Chance shouted, moving to stand beside him. Looking him over, they both spotted the gunshot in his lower ribcage. “####! WHAT THE HELL, MAF?!”

He’d faltered a little at the shot, but he returned his gaze back to the shooter. His smile broadened. “Finally got a shot on one of us. Too bad it was me.”

Gaping at how he was still standing, they shuffled back. “W-… what…?”

Sword in hand, he lunged at them. Despite the burning in his shot lung, he managed to cleave through them. He took in their pained cry, gratification washing over him as he cut through vital organs. “You best hope this burns worse than the flames ahead,” he remarked.

The gang member gagged, twitching as they slumped against his sword. Having enough of them, he withdrew his sword, letting them fall to the floor.

“Well, that’s one of them,” he said, then eyed the blood that now stained his left sleeve. “Ugh. Great.” He’d have to be especially mindful of his presence now.

To his surprise, they ran up beside him. “Maf! What the hell?! Why the #### did you do that?!”

Looking over at them, he raised a brow. “Isn’t it obvious? I can take far more pain than you can.”

Chance’s dismay faltered a bit. “Wh- still! We could’ve just ran!” Glancing back down at the gunshot, they approached. “Dammit, that probably punctured your lung—we gotta go to a hospital or something.”

“No hospital,” he said. Yet, as he said it, his usual steady timbre came out… heavier than it should. Pausing, he now remembered the side effects of a shot lung.

“The hell you mean ‘no hospital’? You’re lungshot!”

Conceding, he slowly nodded. “… I have a safehouse nearby here. It’s just some miles away.”

“Miles?”

Looking off to the side, he kept from sighing. “I’m not saying we should walk. We just need to steal a car.”

Pausing, Chance nodded. “Alright. Let’s go then.”

With that, he turned around.

Only for Chance to yell before moving up beside him. Startled, he nearly pushed them away. “What are you doing?” he asked, eyes wide.

They stared at him. “… you got shot in the lung! You can’t just be walking without support!”

He was baffled. “It’s not that serious—”

“HEY!”

At the voice, the pair whirled around. Behind them, standing at the mouth of an alley, were two other robloxians. One was gaping down at the corpse, eyes wide, their metal bat lowered in shock. The other was standing upright, their posture tense with rage.

“YOU FUCKERS WILL PAY FOR THIS!”

That… wasn’t good.

Suspecting the worst, he looked back at Chance. Only to curse as their eyes widened at the group.

“You didn’t mention one of them was an exploiter!”

“Just move!”

Ah damn—this was going to suck.

They ran.

Although Maf had absolutely endured worse in his life, it didn’t take away how his body strained for oxygen at their exertion. He cursed both of their luck.

“YOU CAN’T RUN!”

As they ran, the voice behind them had glitched. The telltale sign of an exploiter unleashing the most of their power—of which, had him mapping out the alleyway for an escape route.

Spotting another alley, he waited until they reached it before bodily dragging Chance into it with him.

They’d reached it in time, as he heard the air crackle and buzz as some sort of projectile arced past them. “Keep going,” he said, a near wheeze due to the awful state of his lung. Frustrated by the fact he wasn’t in agony yet crippled anyway, he decided to use that frustration to drag Chance into running again.

He usually never sweats. Another thing that this wretched moment would reintroduce him to. His eyes darted around the path. He stumbled now and then, wringing a scowl out of him as he hadn’t realized his steps were now faltering beneath him.

Suddenly, he was yanked aside. Not realizing what was happening, he instinctively grabbed at whoever had pulled him. Only for him to quickly release Chance, speed akin to burning one’s hand on a stove. “I—”

“It’s okay,” they said, cutting him off with a pant. His eyes widened at the thought of strangling them. Stricken, he didn’t react as he was dragged again.

“Maf! Come on!”

Blinking, he quickly followed their direction.

As they ran, he wished he could clean his hands.

Eventually, they came to a stop. Before them, a parking lot. Taking some steps forward, Chance pulled out their lucky coin and pressed a kiss to it.

“Lady Luck, you’re one beautiful woman.”

Heading for the nearest car, they looked around it. “Come on, Maf—help me find a brick or something.”

Collecting himself, he slowly nodded. “Right.”

Spotting one, he picked it up. “Stand back,” he warned. To his relief, they immediately backed away.

Without any hesitation, he threw it into the driver’s side. At once, the window crashed under the pressure. Swiftly after, came the car alarm.

“####,” they cursed. Reaching in, they clicked the unlock button, hastily brushed aside the glass on the seat, and sat down. “Get in.”

Maf had already gotten into the passenger side as they said it. Slumping against the seat, he didn’t care how his legs were going to cramp from the small space. As they rapidly reversed, Maf nearly sliding off of his seat hadn’t it been for their arm holding him back, did they hear the same yell from before.

“THINK YOU CAN DRIVE OFF?!”

“CRAP! BUCKLE IN!”

Maf, throughout his shock, managed to buckle up. Everything afterward moved too fast for him to entirely understand, and too slow for him to forget. 

Having reversed enough, Chance immediately sped off for the highway. Through the mirror on the passenger side, he caught glimpses of the exploiter hovering in the air. In their hand, was an unstable, crackling orb that he could only akin to a black hole. Looking forward, he belatedly felt the nausea that the thing produced. Leaning forward, his arm bracing against the dashboard, he glimpsed at the road ahead. He grit his teeth as he saw how Chance was essentially speeding down the highway.

“Sorry,” he distantly heard them say.

He wondered what for, when they took the sharpest turn of his life. As the tires squealed beneath, far too audible to his rabbit ears, did he end up crashing his shoulder against them. He wanted to apologize.

Then, an awful, inexplicable noise burst somewhere behind them. Eyes wide, he glanced back at the rear view mirror. To his shock, the street and cars behind them were twisted. Stretched across the area, he could barely parse the shapes as cars—they were stretched and spinning in place, lights catching against some unseen light source as they circled. It went against the laws of physics.

He pitied the people that were caught in the blast.

“Dammit,” Chance whispered, also seeing the wreckage that followed the blast.

Glimpsing at them, did he see their devastation.

He tried not to comment. However, as they sped off, he kept glancing back at them. Each time, his fingers clenched at their distant gaze.

Steadying his uneven breaths, he whispered.

“It’s not your fault.”

Their laugh was bitter.

“Isn’t it?”

Gritting his teeth, he placed a hand to their shoulder. “It isn’t. They could’ve taken that shot earlier.” He swallowed as a particular swerve shook him. “Instead… they took aim then and there.”

Chance was quiet. They were still practically speeding down the highway, but following the explosion that happened some miles behind them, they weren’t the only ones escaping the scene at that point.

They breathed out a shaky sigh.

“… thank you.”

He knew better than to believe that would fully help. Even so, he rubbed at their shoulder.

“Of course.”

.

..

.

He didn’t know when they had slowed down, let alone when they parked. Blinking a few times, he steadily realized that they had pulled up into a motel. Hearing them leave the driver’s seat, he watched them head over to his side. When they opened the door, he peered up at them. “Why’ve we stopped?”

His voice was gruffer than he’d expected. He cleared his throat, but he wondered if that’d even do anything.

“You have to rest. C’mon,” they said, tugging at his arm. Even as they tried guiding him up, they were mindful of his pierced lung. He shivered.

“Are you cold?” They asked, sounding alarmed.

He shook his head. Then nodded.

“Damn blood loss…”

“Blood loss—Maf! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Grunting, he shook off their hands. “The safehouse,” he muttered. By the Admins, he wanted to sleep.

Maybe they paused. Maybe not.

“You didn’t tell me the directions… c’mon—” as they said that, they roughly jerked him back and forth “—Don’t you dare fall asleep on me. Let alone now.”

He chuckled.

“Is that a promise?”

“… huh?”

“Uh—excuse me…?”

Mafioso tensed up. He didn’t know that voice. Powering through his sleepiness, he squeezed his grip around his sword as support. Looking past Chance, he spotted a trio of robloxians some ways away.

He slowly made out the concerned expressions they had. One of them gasped, which the others followed suit as they stared. Oh yeah. He was bleeding out.

“Oh Telamon—are you okay, sir?”

“—oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—”

“Were- were you two caught up in the recent attack?”

He supposed he was lucky that his resting expression was a smile. Let alone with how he wasn’t in total control of himself right then.

Luckier of the both of them, Chance wasn’t weighted down by a shot lung nor blood loss. Thinking quickly, they kneeled beside him. “Yes—we barely escaped.”

He supposed that was the easiest truth there was.

“Please. Please help me bring him inside and down into a bed. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

One of the strangers seemingly recovered enough to nod. “Right! I’ll help you.” Moving forward, they warily eyed Maf’s chest. “Oh damn, that looks bad…”

He tensed his grip around his sword.

Noticing this apparently, Chance moved themself closer to him. “Maf. Quit that,” they hissed.

“Sir?”

Clearing the frustration from their face, it was still a bit notable as they faced the stranger.

“Sorry. We were near the center of the blast, so he’s…still in shock.”

He grunted.

Then, with how they looked back at him with such a pleading look, did he release his sword. Placing it away in his inventory, he was mildly uneasy.

Their expression softening with relief, they smiled. Silently, they mouthed ‘thanks’ before turning back to the stranger. “Alright, he’s okay now. Come closer.”

Nodding, the guy approached. Coming up to the passenger seat, Chance helped guide them into  standing position. Placing weight onto his legs, he groaned at the ache in his knees.

Pausing, the two stared at him.

“Small ### car,” he said.

“Sorry,” Chance said in turn.

He closed his eyes. “’s fine.”

With that, they steadily made their way inside. Despite how the stranger was pretty short compared to the both of them, they definitely put in great effort in helping them out. As they passed through the glass doors, they spotted the earlier strangers talking with the receptionist. At their entrance, the pair pointed over at them. “Please,” one of them said, “he’s bleeding out… I’ll pay for the room and everything.”

He blinked.

He wasn’t able to register what happened after that, but he felt himself being carried away. It felt like a long time before he distantly heard a door open, before finding the back of his legs against a bed. Eager to lay down, he broke away from their steady hands to plop down. He could somewhat register Chance’s loud scolding, and the following conversation they had with the stranger.

He was about close to sleeping when he felt hands at his gunshot wound. Alert, he quickly sat up. His hand harshly gripped at the offending wrist—

—only for him to recoil at Chance’s pained grunt.

He swayed back and forth.

“I… I’m sorry…”

He slowly made out their reassuring smile. Still, he could catch the strain of pain within it.

“It’s fine, Maf. I should know better by now.”

“‘m sorry…”

“Maf!”

He didn’t realize he had fallen backward. He wondered why they caught him, before realizing the reason why as the back of his head hit the headboard anyway. The hiss that came out of his mouth was more so a reaction than it was from genuine pain. Something that didn’t help Chance as they cursed.

“Dammit! Dammit, I’m so sorry.”

Closing his eyes, he tried to nestle himself into the bed. “‘s fine. Barely felt it…”

Something had him focus.

“No. No, it’s—nevermind.”

He thought hard. Going over what he’s recently heard, did he slowly realize what it was.

Chance’s voice was strained.

He tensed.

“It’s fine.”

He looked their way. Laying down, the adrenaline that had been coursing through him seemed to taper off now that he was on his back. The blood loss made itself evident as his eyes fluttered, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on them.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Chance apparently retrieved a pack of smokes. They were drawing one out, before stopping all at once. He could see their exhaustion as their arms slumped down, their grin practically rueful as they sighed.

“Right. Your lung…”

“Go smoke. I’ll just sleep here.”

Turning to him, they frowned. “Uh, no. I’m not gonna leave when you’ve been bleeding out, man.”

He brought an arm up—the one without the shot lung—up to lay behind his head. The movement helped keep him grounded, even if he might doze off anyway. “Crack a window then.”

They considered that. Then, they snorted. “Where’s all that scolding over my smoking habits?”

He grumbled. “After the day we had, I wouldn’t blame ya. I’d go for a puff too if I could.”

The silence after was heavy. “I’ll get my break eventually,” Chance said at some point, leaning back with a huff. “How’s the gunshot?”

He inelegantly shrugged. “It’s slowing me down, I’ll admit. More annoying than anything painful, really.”

“It’s still a bullet through your lung.” Apparently, remembering this fact, they stood back up. “I’m gonna try and find a medkit or something. Stay here.”

Watching them go, he resisted telling them not to bother. They had a point, but he had a feeling that they were also going to brood over what happened.

“Mhm,” he decided to reply, waving it off.

“And stay awake.”

He groaned. “Yeah, yeah.”

Laying there alone, he was left with his thoughts. He definitely hadn’t expected things to end up like this. It wasn’t the first, but it was definitely one of the more hectic escapes he’s had to make so far.

He’s dealt with gunshots before. Had even been stabbed repeatedly in one encounter. Only now, a damn stooge had managed to get his lung; one of the few things he couldn’t simply power through.

With his good arm, he palmed at his face.

Maybe it was his age, but he didn’t like how he’d faltered so much earlier. He was just relieved that he killed the damn pest before the word could spread. Not that it took away how they were still in danger.

He’d have to tell Caporegime and the family how they’d have to look out for gangs southeast.

…

Damn did he hate not being proactive.

What wasn’t helping was his double-crossing eyelids. Catching himself, he decided to sit up some more.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a phone. Already, he’d received some messages from his men. His smile strained as he saw Caporegime and Consigliere’s texts updating him of Chance’s whereabouts. He’d have to repay them later.

Opening their group chat, he sent a text.

>found him. gt inolved in a fight.

He paused.

>got shot in th lung. chance is helping me

He made sure to add that last part, lest his men would assume the worst. Then, pulling up the address of the safehouse they’d head to, he shared it.

It wasn’t long before a series of texts followed.

>duck happened??? who did that???

>Whoever it is will be paying for it, that’s for sure.

>where are you right now? are ya sure you want us to meet up at the safehpuse and not go to you?

He read the messages with some appreciation. Telling himself that he ought to treat them at some point, he sent a text to reassure them that he was fine. He purposely left out how he hadn’t gotten medical attention yet, but that fact wouldn’t help them when all he planned was for them to regroup.

>i’ll get there eventully. just be prepared in advance

He watched as a series of agreements came in. They didn’t say so in text, but he knew them well enough that Caporegime would have his usual medical toolkit with him at the safehouse. Let alone how Contractee was likely strapping himself to his ankles.

Amused, he lowered his phone.

He supposed it was funny, thinking over it all.

He was more wired sitting in his office than he was bled out, lungshot and lying in a motel bed.

It was pretty ridiculous.

He was still restless, but it wasn’t as strained as before. Which led him to acknowledge why that was.

He scoffed. “Damn gambler.”

Of course. As if it wasn’t obvious.

They’d been hanging out for far longer than they normally had, let alone helped one another. It was still a bit of a surprise to see that he had gotten so worked up over where his friend was that he chased them down. Not that it had been unwarranted, past and current experiences coming to mind all too easily.

He’d never have thought he’d cared this much. Chance was just some outsider; not even one who worked under or with his family. Hell, his casino was taking some revenue away from his family’s own.

Yet here he was. Having taken a bullet for the idiot.

At the thought of how he’d now have something to one-up them over who-owes-who, he chuckled. There’s no way that they could gloat over him now.

His ears perked, picking up approaching footsteps. Sitting up, he fought against the unease it brought. To his relief, the door opened to reveal Chance there.

“Sorry. I looked around the whole place but apparently, motels don’t have medkits if you can believe it,” they said, looking frustrated. “Thankfully, one guy was nice enough to give me a bit of their healing potion. It might not fully heal you though…”

“It won’t,” he said. “Still, it’s better than having the wound open up again while we’re leaving.”

Nodding, they went to give him the bottle. Already up, he took it with only a little waver.

Already uncorked, he took a swig of it. Downing it, he ignored the usual, strongly artificial cherry taste.

Watching him closely, their frown was plain. “No wonder I didn’t notice you bleeding out.”

He didn’t need to look to know what they meant. The dark red liquid nearly matched the black of his coat. It was only through the lighting of the ceiling fan that one could make out the blood from his dark vest.

Sitting there, he slowly waited for the potion to take effect. “You were the getaway driver. You had to keep your eyes on the road with the speed you were going.”

“Maybe, but ya could’ve told me,” Chance admonished. “How am I supposed to help ya if you’ve bled out?”

“I had it covered.”

“My point still stands!”

Sighing, he idly felt the potion working through him. Gradually, the worst of his shot lung eased—a faint, trilling sensation seemed to map out the bullet’s trajectory through his insides. He could now feel it settled behind his lung, but the liquid at least managed to temporarily close the punctures.

The worst of the damage dealt with for now, he merely had to watch himself. After all, he had still lost a good portion of blood throughout their trip here. Let alone with how some of it was in his lung.

They were quiet as he took in the recovery. The potion’s telling trill faded off, slowly tapering off from his nerves until he was left to the usual soreness. Of course, the concoction wasn’t permanent, but it was better than nothing.

Now left to just regain his energy, he smiled at them. “Seeing how I’m better now, I’d say it’s fine.”

They threw their hands up. “Right. You’re Mafioso. Like this is the first time you’ve bled out from your chest.”

His smile grew into a grin. “It isn’t.”

“Of course you’d brag about that.”

Shifting, he moved to lean back against the headboard. “I’ve told my men where we’ll meet up. I doubt we won’t be hounded down, so we should go.”

Arching a brow, they stared at him. “Already? C’mon, Maf, you had a swig of healing potion. It isn’t gonna help you recover all the blood you lost.”

“Still, we have better odds at that safehouse than here, let alone with my men en route.”

They pursed their plump lips.

“Look—I’m not saying we should stay a night. Just that you oughta lay down and get some blood back in ya.” Crossing their arms, their frown turned into a smirk. “Besides, do ya really wanna get into that car again?”

He considered that. Slowly, he eventually conceded. “Just for a bit. Fifteen minutes at the most.”

Their grin irked him. Likely due to their satisfaction. “That’s enough for me. Now just wait here. I’ll see if there’s anyone willing to share some food.”

“What for?”

“Well, not only have I been unable to eat like I ought to from being chased everywhere,” they began, heading over to the door, “but you also gotta to eat.”

He supposed that was fair. Could even help speeden up the blood situation. Closing his eyes, he grunted. “Fine. I don’t need much, so you can have your fill.”

That damn grin of theirs was palpable.

“Man, when we’re outta here, I’ll pay ya back.”

For some reason, that stuck to him.

.

..

.

“So it’s just past the suspension bridge?”

Taking a bite out of the microwaveable macaroni and cheese, Mafioso swallowed without chewing. The less he tasted the cheap meal the better. “Yep. Traffic should be light by then, so we should get there early.”

Eating their own cheap meal of instant chow mein, he wished he’d swiped it earlier—whether or not they spat in it ahead of time be damned. Looking up from a seemingly pointed slurp, they met his irritated smile with their usual grin. “Sounds like a plan then.”

There were just a few chunks left of the sad meal, but he decided he’d had his fill. Placing it down, he decided to test how his wound was doing. Raising an arm, the bullet wound in his lung was just a presence. Still, he wasn’t about to test its durability.

Lowering the arm, he looked off ahead of him.

“How is it?”

Glancing at them, he was surprised to see that they had stopped eating. The bowl still in hand, they were staring at the wound closely. “You’ve dealt with this kinda stuff before, but… y’know. I’m just wonderin’.”

He considered what to say. “You already know. I feel no pain.”

They scoffed. “C’mon Maf. Be real with me here.”

He blinked. Then, catching on, he tried not to groan. “I’m not flexing. I really do have a high pain tolerance.”

At that, Chance raised their brow. “Mhm.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Well, with how you were actin’ earlier—”

“Just ‘cause I don’t feel pain doesn’t mean I don’t react to the consequences of a shot lung,” he groused. He couldn’t believe he had to insist on this.

They stared at him, eyes likely narrowed behind their black-out shades. He felt compelled to yank them off.

“Hmph. If ya say so.”

Feeling petty, he snatched their bowl of chow mein. Chance tried to save their meal, only to whine as he managed to snag it. “Hey!” They exclaimed, arms out as they followed him back. “I spat in that!”

Uncaring, he used the fork they were using to eat it. As he expected from the delectable smell, it was far better than the sad mac and cheese they gave him.

Gaping at him, they scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re freaky, man. Jeez.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Chow mein’s great.”

“Man,” they grumbled, but he could practically make out their faint amusement. “I’m taking your mac and cheese then. ‘s only fair.”

He shrugged again. “Be my guest.”

Slowly, he watched as they took a bite.

…

“Oh Telamon—this is awful.”

He grinned.

Reluctantly, they finished up the small meal. Once they had, they quickly went to trash it. Standing by the trash bin near the entryway, they paused.

“Hey, Maf. Do ya hear that?”

His ears had already strained before they’d asked.

Outside, there was a commotion.

He could make out yelling. An argument between three people from the differences in tones. One, he managed to pinpoint as the motel clerk. The other two, he didn’t recognize—

—no. He recognized one of them.

Quietly, he raised a hand.

They stilled.

“… it’s them.”

Chance’s lips drew back, but held off from cursing aloud. Looking between him and the door, they eventually asked, “What are they saying?”

He’d been listening intently. So far, he’s managed to pick up on the motel clerk trying to plead with the two gang members that they didn’t know who the pair were talking about—apparently, covering their tracks.

His ears pricked again as the exploiter’s voice crackled.

“I know those two are here! Their car is HERE!”

At that comment, he clenched his teeth.

He didn’t think they had gotten the opportunity to tag their escape car after that blast.

“Maf?”

“The clerk’s trying to cover our tracks. However, they apparently tagged the car before we got here.”

This time, Chance did curse.

He thought through their options.

What with the clerk taking up the pair’s attention, they could use it as a distraction. Surely, if they went down the hall and away from the front of the motel, they’d find a way out through an emergency exit. They’d simply have to keep quiet while sneaking out of there.

He didn’t like the option, honestly. As stupid as it was, he was pissed at the fact that they’d landed a shot on him, even if he’d already killed the guy responsible. Let alone with how he was running away from them instead of the other way around, it was eating at him.

“We’ll jump ‘em.”

Chance faced him.

“… what? Are you serious?”

Moving his legs off to the side of the bed, he stood up. “Come on—if we don’t get rid of them now, then they’ll try chasing us all the way to the safehouse.”

Astonished, they drew a hand down their face. “Maf, you’re the best there is at fighting out of everyone I know. But I don’t think you can take on an exploiter.”

“I can if they’re too busy yelling at a clerk.”

They were about to argue, when a burst came from the front. They both fell silent.

Listening back in, he could make out an agonized wheeze—the clerk.

“Fucking wasting our time.”

When he looked back at Chance, he could see that they figured out what had likely happened. Their previous doubt had fallen away to indignation.

“… think we can take ‘em?”

His grin was wicked.

“That and more.”

They scoffed, but retrieved their flintlock with a smirk. “Best hope that Lady Luck spoils us, big guy.”

Retrieving his own sword, he joined them at the door. He might not be fully recovered, but he’s fought in worse conditions before. Eager to get his revenge, he nodded for them to follow his lead.

“Don’t take the shot until I swing.”

“Right.”

With that, they left the room.

It wasn’t long until they heard the two up ahead.

Apparently, the duo had decided to take their frustrations out on the building. Glass shattered up ahead, as well as small, staticky implosions.

Moving quietly, Mafioso kept an arm out behind him—only now realizing that they had never fought together, let alone know one another’s fighting styles. Figuring he’d just have to be mindful for the both of them, he led their way to the front.

Coming upon the mouth of the hallway, he subtly peered around the corner.

He could see them clearly now. The motel desk was utterly trashed—the aforementioned clerk laying behind it in a hunch. He merely hoped that they’d been kicked by the non-exploiter more than anything else.

By the windows, the metal baseball wielder was busy smashing the glass of the hinged double-doors. Their laughter was an overcompensating high pitch, coming across more like frustration than intimidating.

Meanwhile, the exploiter was tearing the ceiling apart. A look of pure fury was over their face as they went about reshaping the structure into infeasible shapes. Unfortunately for him, they were facing towards them, so he couldn’t sneak up to them yet.

Taking the moment to glance down at Chance, he saw how they were staring at the clerk. Like before, that distant look came over them.

Carefully, he brought a hand to their shoulder.

Stiffening, they thankfully kept quiet as they looked back up at him.

He wasn’t sure what to do then, but he hoped that that would be enough for now. Looking back at the exploiter, his eyes locked in as they turned away.

He took the opportunity.

With years of experience, he managed to sneak up on them—it was only through a sudden turn his way that they’d noticed his descent.

“Shit!”

They quickly tried to avoid the strike, only to scream as the sword slashed through their torso. He hadn’t managed to cut through them entirely as he’d planned, but he believed this would do the trick.

As they fell onto their back, their friend whirled around. “Dammit! You’ll pay for that!”

Rushing towards him, their bat in hand, did Chance rush in front of him. Their flintlock raised, he watched as their ever-present coin landed on their hand—

—heads.

With a smirk, they took the shot.

The gang member was blown away at the blast. Thrown onto their back, their front was a mess of gore. The gunpowder, seemingly egged on through some unseen force, had effectively torn them apart. At the sight, he knew that they weren’t coming up.

Focusing back on the exploiter, he grinned down at them. Practically taking in how they were gasping while clutching their wound, he raised his sword.

However, before he could deal the killing blow, the gang member let out a scream.

With it, came an unseen burst. Something akin to a truck slammed Mafioso back, making him hit the wall behind him. A noise to his side had him look over to see that Chance had gotten caught in the blast too. Sliding down a wall, their breath came out haggard.

Looking back at the exploiter, he watched with a thin frown as they stumbled to a stand.

“You-…d’you fuckers think I’d die to YOU?!”

It was clear that he’d managed to cut through a lung, as they subsequently coughed blood at their yell. His smile returned at the sight.

Seeing this, they scowled.

“I’ll wipe that dumbass smile OFF YOUR FACE!”

They cast a row of jagged, oscillating spikes his way.

Thinking quickly, he dove for the side. Not knowing whether or not the projectiles would follow his path, he made sure to keep moving as he went to his feet. Sword by his side, he tried to close the distance.

Unfortunately, with their eyes trained on him, they spawned a wall. One made out of the floor in-between them, he managed to catch himself before he slammed into the unstable, clipping structure. He stood there for a second, before jumping back as a part of the wall stretched out—nearly impaling him.

Gritting his teeth, he ran down the structure. Dodging and weaving as its spikes tried to predict his path, his eyes darted between those blades and the wall. Coming around it, he slid to a quick halt.

Whirling to face him, the exploiter’s frown deepened. “Fuck off!”

Waving their arm, they tried to cast another projectile. Before they finished, Mafioso spotted a piece of debris. At once, he went into action.

Using the blunt side of his sword, he swung at it. Hitting it head on, he watched as it flew at them—hitting them square in the face.

Yelping, the exploiter recoiled. Above, the projectile above dissipated into nothing.

He grinned.

Moving forward, he had his sword poised for the kill.

Through clenched eyes, the gang member raised their hand. To his dismay, another unseen wave sent him hurtling backwards. Through the spontaneous force, he was sent careening past the broken glass entrance and out into the parking lot.

He couldn’t fix his fall, which left him landing roughly on his side. Catching himself, he forced himself to stand. As he did, a faint warble to his step, did he feel the skin around his wound stretch.

Dammit.

He knew that this wouldn’t help him recover, but he’d been hoping that the potion would be more durable. Then again, his eyes honing in on the exploiter, he was dealing with a force that undid everything around it.

Spotting him out there, the exploiter followed. Standing at the doorway, they extended their hand. This time, the floor before them crackled. From below, those familiar jagged spikes rose up, and were rapidly moving towards him.

Clutching his sword, he ran to the side. Only to curse as he saw them guide the spikes his way anyhow.

Eyes darting around for something to help him avoid the death trap, his gaze snapped to the sound of a gunshot firing off. One he recognized anywhere.

The exploiter wailed, their backside now a ragged mess of skin as Chance stood a mere ways behind. Flintlock in hand, their grin was tantalizing.

At the disruption, the spikes dissipated away. With that, he surged forward.

Facing Chance now, the exploiter thrust a hand their way. At once, a spike from below nearly impaled the gambler, drawing an alarmed yell from them as they barely moved out of the way.

Hearing his approach, they whirled to him.

He’d been about to cut through them when something impacted him. Trying to move past it, he continued with his swing—only to scowl as he found himself floating in the air. A look at the exploiter showed that they had retrieved a damn Gravity Gun.

Because of course they’d still be carrying something.

Helpless, he tried to force himself back down. Despite his efforts, he remained in the air.

“Maf!” Chance yelled, their confidence gone as they watched him float.

“GO!”

To his discontent, the exploiter smirked.

“I win.”

He merely hoped that they’d miss.

To his shock, he instead watched as Chance ran up to the exploiter—hand raised to end his existence—and slammed their flintlock against their skull.

Under the sharp blow, their head whipped aside. Undoubtedly experiencing whiplash, they faltered in place. Blessedly, as they struggled to recover while trying to fend off Chance’s attempt at a second whipping, did Mafioso feel gravity return to him.

Falling quickly, he managed to get his feet beneath him in time. Landing roughly, he ignored the strain through his knees to run forward.

This time, his sword met them through.

Burying his blade, he then bodily lifted them up, making damn sure that their vital organs were torn asunder. Practically pinned onto his blade, they gaped down at him in absolute dismay.

His grin in turn was downright merciless.

“So much for cheatin’.”

Uncaring of their final words, he threw them aside. The corpse landed against the ground in a heap—no type of exploitation able to save them now. Even so, he didn’t take his eyes off of them. Sword at the ready at the slightest twitch of their final moments.

The body spasmed, making him glower.

He went over to run his blade through one more time. Just for good measure.

At the lack of resistance, the tension in him loosened.

Damn, was this day hectic.

Looking back at Chance, he saw them catching their breath. Arms loose, one hand was coursing through their hair in relief. “Oh by the Admins—it’s over now.”

He absolutely shared the sentiment.

Flicking the blood off of his sword, he decided to place it away in his inventory. If the duo had brought anyone else, then it looked like they ran off by now. Turning to Chance again, he was about to tell them how they ought to get moving when he saw them at the desk.

Kneeling down, they were hunched over. Obviously looking over the desk clerk, they were helping the guy to lean back against the nearest wall.

Quietly, he joined them.

“We’ll get you help,” they promised them, putting on a confident voice. Even so, he could pick up on their tension throughout their words.

“Just—be sure not to fall asleep yet, yea?”

The guy grunted. “Yeah.”

“I’ll find that guy with the healing potion. I’ll make him share it if I have to. It’s not a lot but…”

The clerk could just nod, pained.

“… thank you.”

Quiet now, Chance stood back up. “He’s probably outside,” they told him, aware that he’d listened in. Moving out, he watched them go.

He glanced once over at the clerk, slumped against the wall yet still conscious, before following suit.

Standing outside, his sight and hearing picked up on the residents standing at a distance from the motel. Considering all the uproar that happened, it made sense how they all took the opportunity to run away. Apparently spotting the aforementioned man, Chance stalked over to him.

“Hey,” they said, their friendly tone notably strained. “Glad to see ya made it out, man. Still got that potion?”

At the question, the man stiffened.

“… y’all both look fine to me,” he said.

“It’s not for us. It’s for the desk clerk.”

Even so, the man didn’t falter.

“… what’s wrong with ‘em?”

Dropping their sociable charm, Chance’s shoulders squared up. “What’s wrong with them is that they had their teeth kicked in covering our sorry hides.” Reaching forward, they opened a palm.

“Hand it over.”

Even then, the man merely frowned at them.

Watching closely, he sighed internally. Stepping forward, he watched as the man’s eyes widened at seeing him approach. They took a step back, but he simply took a step forward in turn. Stopping a mere ways away, he was mindful of the dried blood on his coat alongside the fresh spatters over him.

“… y’know, greed’s quite the response to people saving your sorry life.”

He leaned forward, the usual shadows covering his face darkening at the angle.

“Are you gonna stick with that answer?”

Slowly, the man retrieved the healing gear.

“… just take it,” he said, his tone attempting yet failing to come across more frustrated than he was scared.

His smile widening, he took the potion with pleasure.

“Smart man.”

Turning to Chance, he offered them the potion.

They’d been watching the interaction closely, so they were surprised to see him hand over the gear. Lips opened in faint wonder, they slowly took it. Staring back up at him, they seemingly searched his face for something, before smiling warmly.

He could feel his own smile match theirs in kind.

Walking back inside, he stood to the side while they helped the clerk drink the vial’s last drops. With that, Chance told them to hang on until paramedics arrived before they both went back out.

Standing by the ruins of the entrance, they looked over at him with a particular smile.

“What?” He asked, something about it eating him.

They shook their head. “Nothin’. I’m just… grateful.”

He blinked. He stared for a good moment, before looking away. “You can pay me back by staying quiet.” It came out a bit snappier than he intended, yet Chance chuckled at it anyway.

“Alright, alright.”

Making their way to their car, they purposely brushed past his shoulder. “Thanks, Maf.”

His belated scoff came out warmly.

“Don’t think about it.”

He was about to follow, when he noticed how they’d stopped. He was about to ask why, when his eyes settled on the wreckage ahead.

He wasn’t sure how they missed it, considering they hadn’t parked that far from the entrance. Then again, he supposed that the fact it was a stolen car, let alone one now clipping and phasing through the ground in jagged, contrasting directions didn’t help.

Chance sighed.

“Yeah, I shoulda expected that.”

Glancing over at the residents still standing outside, he clicked his tongue. “The crowd doesn’t help either.” There was no way they’d be able to steal another car with them around, let alone with someone having already called emergency services their way.

“Well… we could maybe hitchhike?”

“No.”

They slumped a bit at that. “Yeah, fair enough.”

It’d been more of a spontaneous proposal anyway, what with the variable chances of them either getting decent help or ending up in another situation entirely.

Distantly, the sounds of sirens approaching set him on edge. They were still some long ways off from the sounds of it, but Mafioso’s jaw tensed anyway.

“Maybe we can take an employee’s car?”

Wanting to get away from here, he nodded. They began heading for the back of the building when a small clamor came from the crowd. Something about it had him pause, leading Chance to slow down too. “What is it?” They asked, staring up at him.

His ears flicked towards the crowd.

“… looks like a barrage of cars.”

“By Telamon—was that exploiter part of a gang?”

“There’s so many of ‘em…”

He didn’t like the sound of that.

Following where the crowd had been staring, his sight landed on the highway. Some miles down, moving far past the speed limit, was a group of cars. The cars were marked with garish strips of white and purple. Colors that he now remembered the gang members had scattered through their outfits.

“Dammit.”

“… of course they called for backup.”

They sounded just as miserable as he felt.

He looked over at the remains of their escape vehicle. “####.”

At this point, being kicked out of the server would be a blessing. Just as he turned to face Chance, did he notice someone approaching them. He didn’t recognize them, but knew they worked at the motel from the look of their uniform. “Yes?”

At being acknowledged, the person stiffened. “Ah. Sorry—I just wanted to ask if you guys needed help?” Then, nodding over to the mess of a car near them, they looked off. “I, uh, have a motorcycle you can use.”

He blinked. They both stared at the guy, completely in disbelief. Chance was the one to reply.

“Really?” They asked, no longer thinking through their replies.

At their baffled stares, the guy nodded.

“You… you killed that exploiter. I saw the news. He’s the same one that hurt all those people hours ago.”

Slumping in place, they weakly smiled at them. “Please—get out of here before that gang catches up.”

Chance paused. “We can’t just leave you all…”

The guy smirked.

“It’s alright. We have an Admin on the way.” Excited, they practically hopped in place. “MrDoomBringer!”

They both stared.

“… you guys are in great hands,” Chance eventually said, their usual grin returning.

“Dang right!”

Then, turning to face the side of the motel, they pointed at the space behind it. “My cycle is back there—it has near full gas last I saw, and I unlocked it before I talked to you guys. Please be safe!”

“You too!” They said as they both went to the employee parking lot. “You’re a lifesaver!”

Coming upon the lot, they didn’t have to look far to spot the aforementioned motorcycle. It was practically the only bike in the bike lane. Approaching it, Mafioso stood back while Chance went up to it. With them looking over its gas meter, it was clear to see that it was built for those below 6’00”.

“Man, that guy’s a damn saint,” Chance said, their signature smirk bright as they straddled the bike. “Has full gas and everything. I gotta pay him back.”

“Right,” he off-handedly muttered.

The motorcycle’s engine turned on with a roar. Stinging his hearing somewhat under the distance, all while Chance whooped with excitement. “Hell yeah!” Then, noticing that he hadn’t gotten on already, they looked over at him. Quirking a brow, their grin eased. “Well? What’s the hold up?”

His lips thinned. Nevertheless, what with their limited time and it being their only chance at escape, he mounted the motorcycle.

Sitting behind them, he was suddenly struck by how the bike absolutely wasn’t fit for his height. Chance was making the best of it, but he’d have to cling on.

“It’ll be rough,” they said, also picking up on that fact. “Beggers can’t be choosers, and all that. C’mon.”

…

He wrapped his arms beneath their own. Coming around their torso, he felt all too aware of himself. He made an effort not to lean his weight against them, but they laughed. The sound of it reverberating through his chest.

“I can take on your weight, Maf. Better I feel your big back behind me than you falling off on the ride there.”

He grit his teeth. Without another word, he leaned against them. All too conscious of their heat, the muscles on their back, the dip of their hips—

—what?

He was brought out of his thoughts by a jostle. Moving instinctively, he clutched onto them. Drawing a distracted laugh out of them as they stabilized their drive out onto the highway. “Sorry!” Chance yelled.

His smile was strained. Trying to think of anything else, he decided to watch their surroundings.

It was evening now. The sun was just about close to setting. Traffic was light, as he’d expected, leaving the path onto the suspension bridge a breeze.

Despite the ever-present scent of car emissions and air pollution, the rushing wind felt wonderful. It was a wonder their fedoras didn’t fly off, but he relished the rush anyhow. Cooling the rare sweat he’d had from fighting the gang members and recovering his wound.

He took it in. The sunset’s pink glare reflecting off of the occasional cars they’ve passed, and casting a soft glow of orange, purples, and yellow across it all.

It was as he was taking the sights in when a light caught his eye. Squinting for a moment, he realized it came from the side of Chance’s shades.

They were looking straight ahead. Leaning forward as they effortlessly steered the motorcycle forward. With their speed, they managed to gently weave through whatever cars there. It was just a matter of them reaching the safehouse in time, really. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

He couldn’t see their expression. Not that he couldn’t imagine their usual, cocky little smirk clearly.

Golden-hued eyes came to his mind.

Their gradient shine all too bright.

He startled when Chance laughed below him.

“Ease up! I know how to drive, don’t worry!” They yelled above the roar of the rushing wind.

It didn’t take long for him to realize his grip tightened. Clutching past the need. Clutching for something else.

Fuck.

.

..

.

“Here,” Mafioso said above the engine. No longer shouting now that they entered the city at a reasonable speed limit. “Go through that alleyway.”

Chance’s following chuckle stuck with him.

“Aye aye, Mafi.”

Slowing down, they drove into the alley. Chance carefully navigated around the worst of the broken glass and litter as they went. By now, he figured he could loosen his grip. Only to tighten it as they drove over a loose brick. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to avoid thinking about the smell of their hair.

“Oop—my bad!”

He squeezed their stomach in turn.

Eventually, they came upon the safehouse. It was a nondescript building, save for its new metal door. 

Slowing to a stop, Chance parked the motorcycle nearby. It took a bit of effort for the both of them to catch themselves before the bike fell over, but they soon dismounted. Breathing a sigh, they turned to him. “Gotta say, I was worried you’d fall off.”

He grunted. “Well I didn’t.”

Their ensuing grin had him look away.

“Love your bluntness, Maf. Let’s head in before you tell me how my driving was,” they said, already making way for the entrace. “This one need a code?”

“I got it,” he sighed, following after them.

Damn was he exhausted. Most of which from the sheer fact his lung was still shot up.

He input the code in a blur. Once the door opened, he shouldered past it. Chance following closely behind all the meanwhile. “Careful!” They said, simultaneously hovering and keeping distance as he made way for a recovery room. “Man—you’re gonna open something.”

He shrugged. “There’s medicine here for that.”

Entering the room, he finally ceased his rush. Standing there, he could feel some of the earlier haziness coming back to him. Clenching his fists, he took a moment for it to pass before he began to undress. He’d been wearing these blood-stained clothes for a good while now; if he didn’t get it cleaned again, he could catch something wretched.

Removing his coat, he breathed a sigh. Not the first nor the last time he’d get a scar he supposed. It was as he was folding it over that he noticed Chance. Or, more accurately, the fact they were standing still.

They stood there. Staring at something at his back. Or, more accurately, something by his waist.

He could feel his throat working itself. “Chance?”

They caught themself staring. “… you have a tail.”

Realizing that that’s what had caught their attention, he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved… or disappointed. Looking away, he went on throwing his coat to the side. He’ll just get it cleaned later.

“Yes. I do. You’ve just never seen it because I make sure to keep it hidden when I’m out in public.”

As he went to unbutton his vest, did he idly listen for their response.

“Huh. Gotta say, it’s cute.”

He couldn’t help but turn to stare.

At his gaze, they quickly looked away. The sharp snap of their head upwards unintentionally gave away how they had been staring at his tail again.

He fought against the nerves in his abdomen.

“You’re a menace.”

He heard how they laughed.

“A menace that saved your bunny butt.”

His reply came without thinking.

“Sounds like you’re mesmerized.”

The pause after that had his smile widen.

“… just pass out already,” they said, their tone all but akin to a miffed teenager.

He laughed. Only to stiffen at the sharp pressure in his chest. He managed to stay on his feet, but apparently, they’d noticed his stumble and rushed to his side. Moving their hands to support his back and shoulder, they bodily kept him upright.

After a moment of watching him closely, likely to see if he was a pasty yellow shade, they breathed a sigh. “C’mon, Maf—just lay down on the bed.”

He would’ve insisted he was fine before. Only now, at seeing their concern up close, did he oblige.

“Alright.”

They paused. Then, realizing he’d agreed, they smiled up at him. He watched how the corner of their lip curled, how the bottom of their lip seemed especially plump as their expression softened. With how close they were, he couldn’t help but take in the moment.

“Let’s go, big guy. One step at a time.”

Blinking, he belatedly nodded.

“Right.”

Although he felt steady enough to walk on his own, he let them guide him towards the aforementioned bed. Once they got to it, he moved himself to lay down. The mattress was, as all other safehouse mattresses, a medium-firm. A fact he appreciated as he rested against the sheets. Now, flat on his back, he sighed.

Laying there, he blinked up at the ceiling. The day’s messes seemed to have caught up with him, as sleep was incredibly irresistible right then.

He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he heard Chance calling his name. Staring up at them, he nearly forgot why they were here when he saw the medical supplies they had piled in their arms.

“Alright. Lemme help you with this,” they said, reaching for his vest. Even so, they were mindful to keep their hands away in case he objected.

He belatedly nodded.

With his consent, they began unbuttoning his vest. He helped a bit by sitting up as they removed it. His arms ached as they awkwardly twisted with it, but once it was off, he slumped a bit. Lazily, he yanked the top of his button up aside—breaking some buttons off in the process. He was sick of the procedure by now.

Chance merely stared. “… I guess that’s one way,” he heard them mutter before retrieving something.

Finally, with that done, he laid back down.

As they cleaned at his wound, he felt his eyes close.

Despite the discomfort of the cold disinfectant against his bare rib, he found himself nodding off. All the while, Chance occasionally made some remark on the day they just had. If anything, the sound of their comforting timbre was soothing him.

The last thing he felt, was Chance drying his wound.

.

..

.

Slowly, he came to.

To his relief, he was feeling better than before. His lung was still strained, but he was sure it’d steadily recover now that Soldier and Caporegime mended it. Nevertheless, he wasn’t looking forward to being mindful of his recovery as he worked on the field. Let alone the mother-henning of his men.

Looking around the room, hoping that maybe one of his men had left him his phone or a handheld game console or whatever, did he see them.

He wasn’t at all expecting to see Chance in the room. Let alone seeing them sleep upright on a chair. They hated sleeping upright.

Gritting his teeth, he looked away.

Even then, it didn’t take away the tenderness of it all.

Fuck. He couldn’t believe himself.

Inadvertently, he sighed. Only for his resting smile to falter as his chest tightened in pain at the motion.

Maybe he could just die. After all, it’d be better than him simmering in his feelings like this.

Closing his eyes, he wondered what he could do.

He could just stage an argument. Purposely antagonize Chance into a fight that’d have them cut him out of their life. Leaving him forever.

Only, he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

He knew what they treasured, their ideals. And that knowledge came from the intermittent moments of vulnerability they had after hanging out together.

The tension in his jaw increased.

Maybe he could just have Chance blacklisted. Tell his men not to let them ever enter his casino or properties from then on. To forcefully kick them out should they ever try and meet him again.

Even that had issues, unfortunately.

Soldier wouldn’t say anything, but his sadness over it would be the most obvious of his men. Contractee would probably assume the worst, and quietly conspire a way to avenge his honor or something. Consigliere would either try to help him forget about it, or he’d be sneaking off to interrogate Chance. Maybe even cave-in and try to fix their relationship.

Worst of all, would be Caporegime.

He’d be the first to figure out why he’d blacklist them. Although he knew that he wouldn’t argue against it, his attempts at reassuring him afterwards would be painfully apparent to him. Even if he didn’t mean to.

His ears lowered, practically pressed against his skull. He didn’t know why he was having so much trouble coming up with ideas to see less of them.

He could just kill them.

But that option alone was immediately turned down. Disgusted at himself, he clenched his fist.

What the hell did that say about him? Murdering someone just because he couldn’t deal with his feelings like an adult? Let alone one in his forties? Killing Chance over that…

…

He felt exhausted now. A complete contradiction to how he was feeling earlier on in their arrival here.

Laying there, he figured he’d just have to deal with it. After all, he was Don Sonnellino. The mob boss of all of Roblox. Everyone’s heard of him, and feared him. So if he couldn’t deal with some crush over a close friend of his, then he might as well die then and there.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a noise. Ears perking, he realized that it was Chance. Looking over at them, he watched as they steadily woke up. With how their shades were nearly falling off their face, he could see their golden-hued eyes groggily blink open. Seemingly awake now, they stared back.

“… mornin’.”

He blinked. Then, realizing he’d been staring for longer than he should, he glanced over at a clock on the wall. “It’s 11:40, actually.”

They blinked again.

“… oh.”

Pressing their eyes shut, they bodily stretched.

He couldn’t help it. His eyes focused on their figure. Taking in the way their dirty, collared shirt hung off of their lithe body, yet peaked at the arch of their stretch. Perfectly molding against their faint muscles.

…

“Uh. Maf?”

Coming to, did he realize that he’d been staring again. Only this time, he’d been caught in the act.

With some great effort, he met their gaze.

“Hm?”

“Something on your mind?”

“You alright?”

He hadn’t thought through his answer. Although it was a fair question, considering what they’d gone through, it still felt far too intimate on his tongue.

At his reply, they chuckled. “Compared to you? I guess I can’t complain.”

Then, their smile faded. Looking away, they took a moment before adding, “You shouldn’t have been there. I’m the guy who got caught up in that mess.”

“Shut up.”

They startled.

“… huh?”

He sighed. Which made him stiffen a bit.

“I know that. You usually find trouble. I came anyway.”

Their stare was full of astonishment.

“… You- why?”

It was a moment before he replied. Their searching gaze watching him closely all the while.

“Because I was worried.”

He’d manage to admit it with his usual tone. Completely contrasting the unease he was feeling.

They were quiet.

Then, they laughed. Only, it was soft. Uneasy.

“Sounds unlike all the rumors I’ve heard of ya.”

Pausing, he sat himself up. Seeing this, they quickly got to their feet. “Woah, woah, woah! What are ya doing?” They asked, moving to the bedside.

“I told you before, I’ve endured worse,” he said, purposely ignoring the sting in his chest.

“Yeah? Well, Caporegime said you need to lay down.”

Then, they approached, hands out like they were about to push him back down. Only to catch themself in the act, their hands hovered close. Staring at the bandages and gauze covering his gunshot, their lips were thin with concern. “Come on, Maf…”

He took longer to reply. And inadvertently wheezed as he’d apparently forgotten to breathe.

“Maf!”

This time, Chance did push him down. “Lay down, you idiot! What the hell’s up with you?”

Now laying back down, he stared up at them.

They stared back, dumbfounded.

Closing his eyes, he decided to go through with it. Looking back at them, he reached for their hand. His heart was loud in his ears—simultaneously strained from his recent movement… and his fondness.

When he met their gaze again, their mouth was agape.

He chuckled.

“I care about you. That’s why.”

Then, he brought their hand to his lips. He brushed his lips against the knuckles of their hand. Feeling the faint callouses there, he appreciated them.

“… you don't have to feel the same,” he said once the silence stretched on. Lowering their hand, he released it. As far as he could see, they were still speechless.

“I’m merely letting you know now. So if you want to leave, move somewhere far, or what have you, I won’t follow you like I did today.”

He forced himself to keep their gaze.

“I promise. As a Sonnellino, I promise.”

It was a while before their expression changed. Their lips slowly morphed into a shaky smile.

“… like you’re ever getting rid of me.”

He couldn’t believe it.

Staring at them, he was too stunned to reply.

At his shock, they laughed. Bright, giddy, and loud. Moving to sit beside them, they clasped his hand. Raising it, they pressed their own kiss to his knuckles. Pulling away, the way their thumb caressed the heavy callouses and split skin there had him dizzy.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, no longer thinking clearly.

Not refrained from a gunshot as he was, they grinned. “Of course, Maf.”

Leaning over, they placed a kiss on his cheek. The gesture had him stunned, before he took their permission to place his own kiss against their cheek.

“Thank you,” he said, too enamored to make a fitting reply. He was still wrapped up in disbelief to really organize himself in turn.

Chance probably knew this, as their grin softened. Shifting to instead lay beside him, they placed an arm over his midriff. The contact was extremely potent on his bare skin, let alone with his recovering body.

“Of course, Maf. Try and rest up now.”

They were speaking gently now. Likely to help him sleep again. Even now, they were caring for him, and he was all too addicted to the elation it brought him.

“Stay. Please.”

Pressing their head against his shoulder, their laugh was warm. “I will. I’ll stay until you wake up again.”

Closing his eyes, he eased.

“… thank you.”

His wound quietly throbbed in his chest. Even so, be it his mind, the medication kicking in, or just his own self, he could swear that his adoration was stronger.