Chapter Text
It was another day of restless, tiring debt collecting alone. Buildings of all sizes glared with harsh lights, either from windows or terribly bright signs. The sky was as black as it could be, while still allowing the dark clouds to be visible. Dull, plain white lamplights weakly illuminated the streets, the roads to his right being as bare as fresh paper.
The rain poured down like a billion icicles were trying to jab at Mafioso’s shoulders and back. Raindrops splattered beneath him, messing his fancy shoes and the bottom of his pants up with rainwater. The rainfall was loud, making his hidden rabbit ears feel as if they were going deaf, and the terrible white noise would be the last thing he heard. But the rain wasn’t what was his biggest bother.
BOOM!
A strike of lightning came crashing down near the city, the sound directly piercing his ears, evoking a sudden and violent jolt of fear, causing him to stop in his tracks.
Mafioso was a cold, stone-faced man. How come thunder, of all things, scared him to paleness?
BOOM!
Another strike came down, making the man freeze and bunch up again, before slowly and cautiously beginning to walk as if the sound of thunder itself was a stalker right behind him. It felt like even the sound clawed right into him, exposing his heart bare as skin.
The signs on every building possible continued to blind him, causing him to see every color at least twice a minute.
The rain’s strength and the recently picked up wind only grew stronger. It practically pushed Mafioso around like a free, fallen leaf. In some short moments, it felt like the wind and rain paired up to try exposing his embarrassingly soft rabbit ears. The wind would threaten to push his slick, shiny fedora off while the raindrops would push the rabbit ears down, free like flowing hair. He got terribly sick of that and held his fedora down, as strange as he might’ve looked to anybody watching at this late hour.
10:57 PM, his fancy watch under his sleeve read. Heaven knows if there are any buildings or structures still open for him to take a break from the great outdoors. His penthouse is still decently far away, and his phone, which he used to contact his mafialings, had died long ago, with numerous cracks on its screen. He wondered how that thing was still alive, hanging on by a thread.
BOOM!
One more crackle of lightning to send Mafioso into a silent fit of shock. The sky lit up briefly, a sign on a window that read ‘Open 24/7!’ in a familiar font finding his eyes. He glanced up at the bold, bright sign to see just where he was already planning to crash for a few minutes.
Surprisingly, it was his family’s own casino.
Not even the other rival casino in town; it was his own.
No need to think he’d be a stranger to anybody in the building— he’s familiarized himself with a few frequents.
He opened the glass doors, a bell jingling just above his head as he stepped in with a light stomp from his heavy-duty boots. The walls were a rich red, with a luxurious crimson carpet perfectly accentuating the lustrous, creamy-brown marble tiles. There were slot machines, tables, and people everywhere, many of them losing fortunes to their god awful luck. None of them had that lucky touch.
“Jackpot! You win!” A machine played its voice just to Mafioso’s left. The sound of coins spilling and piling up against each other echoed through the whole first floor, grabbing every commoner’s attention.
The one with such a graceful hand and cocky smile? “Chance...?” Somebody muttered.
“Of course, he won a game again...” Another one sighed as they turned to look at their empty bucket.
“Woo-hoo!” The man cheered, ignoring every comment circling around. He picked up the same duffel bag he always used in case he won and made sure every last coin fit inside. “Ah—! Oh, it’s just you, Don. How long ‘ave you been standing behind me?”
Oh. He didn’t realize he stood that close. “Um.” Mafioso somehow struggled to find words, mainly distracted by how sopping wet he was from the rain. “A... while.” His nose was starting to get stuffed, head already flaring with heat.
“Jeez, man! You’re practically soaked! You could flood the whole casino at any time if ya could, haha!” Chance chuckled as he nudged his elbow against Mafioso’s arm, his same pearly smile shining ever so beautifully. “‘Mon, go get dried up. My ‘special permissions’ pass still hasn’t expired, has it? Cuz I’ll be following you. Ya look miserable as fuck.”
Good thing his fedora hadn’t fallen off while looking down at Chance. Now, the height difference wasn’t much, just about five to six inches, but it still hurt his neck a bit to look downward. And he’d look even more ‘miserable’ with the hat off. “Hey, Donni. How come you’re soaking wet when you could’ve, I dunno, probably driven here instead of... I’m assuming walking?”
“... Where I parked for the last one was not far from the casino. I figured it would not hurt to walk a bit more, amico mio.” Mafioso was following Chance to the employee elevator, on the opposite side of the regular elevator. He kept his distance from the man, trying not to get him sick and drenched.
“Heh, I guess that’s fair.” Chance pressed a button, patiently leaning on the side of the elevator before the doors opened, and motioned Mafioso to head in first. He nodded and hastily walked into the elevator, Chance barely having to worry about getting soaked since the metallic room was fairly spacious. “Hey, Donni. You know what’s truly fun in a casino?” They pulled a coin from their inner blazer pocket and flipped it with their thumb. “The risk. It gets your adrenaline pumping when you go against a person while gambling. It’s no fun when there’s no real risk, as seen in slot machines. I mean, the music and watching the money fly out is fun, but where’s the entertainment in only having to sit and never think?”
“I’m not the one to be confronting for your critique,” Mafioso mumbled, watching Chance’s coin fly again. “I was not the builder for this casino. I am only a part of the family that owns it.”
“Ehhh, I know! But it’s still better to talk about it with a friend than with a scary higher-up I hardly know. Helps me get the words out much easier.” He flipped the coin one more time, landing on heads as the elevator stopped and opened its doors to a long, glorious hallway. “Well, we’re here, Don! Lead the way to your room!” He went to pat Mafioso on the back, but hesitated as soon as they felt the humidity from his gigantic blazer.
Mafioso nodded once more, quietly stepping through the halls, the carpet muffling his stomps as Chance simply followed. They reached the door to his room, Mafioso opening the door and walking through, but stopping before Chance could enter. “Chance,” he spoke. “Is there a reason you continue to hold that coin? To flip?”
Chance was a tad bit startled to hear that sudden question. They looked down at the coin in his hand, with a familiar yet small dent at the top of it. ITrapped’s final mark before they cut off ties with that wretched man.
“... Chance?”
“Ah. Sorry.” They continued to stare at the golden ‘charm’ in their hand before going back to make eye contact with Mafioso. “Just as both a good luck charm and a fidget, y’know? I get jumpy while risking it all, too.” He flipped the coin again, watching it land on tails and jokingly frowning like a cartoon. “I’m just like your average gambler. Except I’m actually close to you, and not just someone for small talk.”
Chance could practically see his reflection in the coin, from all the basic details like his not-quite curly hair to the more minor details like the mole on his right cheek, just near the corner of his eye. The ‘charm’ was as golden as...
...
Robloxia, October 199X
It was drizzling, the sky painted gray like Chance’s skin. The water came down ever so gently like snowflakes; the city was dull with all its bright signs and lights off. Everything almost looked like a scene straight from the old films, far before the advent of color.
“Chance!” A yellow individual wore a sharp and stylish ice crown that perfectly matched his blue vest, along with a chic, white frilled jabot, accompanied by a simple blue brooch. The teenager’s pants were a vivid yet soft green, and his shoes were exquisite. His hair was straight down yet messy, bouncing as the teenager waved a hand excitedly and ran towards Chance. “I’m SO glad I saw you today!”
The child was wearing a red hoodie, carrying a simple, black umbrella above his head for extra protection against the rain. “Oh, iTrapped. I didn’t expect to see you... especially in the rain like this. I thought you were a fan of keeping yourself looking tidy and fancy?”
ITrapped laughed and took Chance’s free hand. “Yeah, but I don’t mind getting dirty with you around. You’re fun to hang out with, whether that be in the backstreets or in a field.”
“Hehe. Yeah, right. How much money do you need to buy yourself lunch again?” Chance put down the umbrella, and rain immediately stained his hood while they grabbed their wallet.
“Actually, I wanted to give you something for once. For being a great friend.” He reached into the pocket of his green pants and held out a singular, golden coin. It almost matched the bright color of iTrapped’s hand. “I know you have a lot of coins that look like this one. That’s why this one will be special.” He adjusted the coin from his palm to two of his fingers, biting down on the top of it with his canine tooth. “There, this one has my mark! That way it’ll be like a treasure to you!”
...
“I see.” Mafioso interrupted Chance’s thoughts with a tone that spoke of worry, gentleness, and yet rigidity. “Come in. You may wait for me on my bed, and if somebody comes in and asks about your presence, you show them this.” He picked his rabbit-shaped brooch off his blazer and held it in Chance’s hand. “Tell them it’s your physical pass.” Mafioso stepped away from the door, inviting Chance to come inside as he went away to a different room— which Chance assumed was his bathroom— inside his bedroom.
They sat on the side of Mafioso’s bed, holding the rabbit brooch with both hands like it was a small, fragile creature. It looked adorable, even without a face. Just seeing its ears and chubby face was enough to determine its cuteness.
The room looked about as exquisite as Mafioso spoke. His bed had the fluffiest, deep purple blanket, along with a comforter folded across half the bed, and finally a thin throw blanket just at the edge. It was so... rich. There was even a rug under the whole bed. Jeez, and all Chance got was a somewhat large bed with one, just enough blanket. At least it was warm enough to ward off the freezing winter nights. Sure, they also lived in luxury, but it wasn’t as luxurious as THIS. He just took whatever seemed like enough to keep him alive.
Not to mention the millions of fuzzy, white pillows that were scattered everywhere in the room, on the bed, on the bay window, you name it.
On the nightstand was a fancy table lamp, a regular alarm clock, and a framed-in-gold photo of a younger Mafioso holding the cutest bunny Chance has ever seen. It was a whole cloud with two black pearls, slimmer pieces of fluff just on the smaller part. Of course, even in the photo, Mafioso’s eyes weren’t visible. He wasn’t wearing a hat or anything, but his jet black hair hid them. What a shame... the sun’s even beaming right on his face.
Knock knock knock!
“Boss? Are ya in there?” A rough yet relatively high-pitched voice exclaimed from the door, snapping Chance out of their train of thought. “Me n’ the boys were jus’... lookin’ for ya. You been missing for a while now.”
Silence.
Silence because Chance was already trying to plan what he should be doing. Silence because Mafioso... was still in the other room. Silence because there was nobody in the proper place to respond and give an appropriate answer.
Chance began to fidget with the brooch, making sure not to make a sound or even drop it. Heaven knows how fragile this shiny, pristine, beautiful, so Don-like— What? Huh?
A different voice spoke, much softer than the previous one, but still loud enough. “Boss, we can hear you playing around with your bunny brooch again.” WHAT?
Chance turned their eyes to the brooch again, letting their hands continue what they were doing just to see what they were doing wrong to almost blow his cover.
Clink... plink-a-plink...
Of course. The rings on his middle fingers were tapping the brooch like a person poking another. So obvious! And they didn’t catch onto this earlier? Were they this dense? God, he should just jump— WOAH.
They comically frowned as soon as the thought they heard played in their head. Jeez, they knew these kinds of jokes were practically imprinted in permanent marker into his mental dictionary, but he didn’t expect to hear it this easily and be shocked by it.
The door began to open gently. “Boss, we can’t take the silent treatment this easily—” Light peeked in from the crack, and everyone froze upon seeing each other.
“Who are ya?!” One of the four with a crowbar yelled, preparing to bash Chance in the head. “An’ just why do ya have our Boss’s rabbit brooch?!”
“H-Hey now, haha!” Chance raised his hands to each side of his head, holding the brooch with his right thumb. “Your, uh, Boss gave me this and said to tell you it’s a physical pass from him!” Truthfully, if these were Mafioso’s workers, he should have probably been able to recognize them and vice versa. Sure, he talked to them about his goons a few times, but he’s never seen them for himself.
One of the goons holding a plank didn’t believe Chance’s obviously true reason. “Weell... ‘M not sure I trust your words... How can we be sure you didn’t successfully kill our Boss or sumn’? And took his most precious pin to taunt us, and sittin’ there like ya did nothin’? And—”
“Contractee, that’s enough.” The one with a white, simple top hat rolled his eyes and put a hand on Contractee’s shoulder. “The Boss’s done this with a few people, givin’ them his jewelry as a physical sign o’ their permission to be here.” Mafioso has more jewelry? He actually knows other people? Is Chance at least his favorite? What?
Another goon in shades stepped forward and leaned towards Chance, getting scarily close as their covered eyes stared at each other. “Say, how’d ya get in ‘ere? I don’t see da boss around.”
Chance, although nowhere near sick, felt his throat burning as he simply thought of what to say. “Uhhhh... haha. First, can you back away...? Y-You’re, uh, making this communication thing a little harder.” The fellow shades wearer stepped away a tiny bit, then tilted his head with a raised eyebrow to signal Chance to continue. “Thanks. Err— Second, he... went into another room.”
“Which one?”
“Uh—. Didn’t see. Too busy looking at this thing here.” He held out the rabbit pin for the goon to see, hoping he sounded convincing enough. Because surely, if Mafioso’s taking this long in that other room, he must be busy and cannot be disturbed. “Pretty cute, if you ask me.”
They recalled all of Mafioso’s ‘gossip’ about his workers. Hell, it was almost every day they saw each other and had time to chat! How Contractee kept messing up yet redeeming himself, how Consigliere and Caporegime were doing so much of the work, and Soldier was just doing his own thing. Maybe the goons have heard about Chaaaaance...?
“Has Don ever—”
“You are to call him ‘Boss’ on his turf.” The top-hat wearer barked.
“... Right. Has your boss ever spoken to you four about...” What’s a way he could describe himself that wouldn’t sound egotistical or anything? Daring and nice are obviously off the table— ah, wait. “A gray guy who’s always sporting a similar-looking fedora or something...?”
That seemed to put the goons in a long thinking process. Now, Chance could have run out of the place if he could, but the weapons these guys held looked like they could break his legs. So he kept his feet glued to the ground, sitting comfortably still. “I mean, all I recognize from yer description is gray. So probably.” Contractee shrugged and spun his wrist, holding the plank at Chance. “Said tha’ guy had a real knack for gamblin’ at this place. Always winning. Says it’s impressive.”
‘Says it’s impressive.’
‘Says it’s impressive.’
‘Says it’s impressive.’
The words echoed in his brain like the world’s most important voice. Mafioso found his talent and luck impressive? All of his limbs were suddenly released from the tension Chance had unknowingly built up, and he leaned in his spot. “Well, guess that’s me. Here, I even got a bag of coins from one of the slot machines.” They pointed to under their calves, where they’ve been resting their legs the entire time.
Contractee took the bag and handed it to the top-hat, muttering something like, ‘I’m not entirely sure I trust this guy, Consigliere,’ or whatever. Consigliere rolled his eyes, sighed, and patted Contractee’s back as he opened the bag. Two shiny gold coins slid out, the mere opening being enough to let some more flow out easily.
The goons slowly looked up from the bag, all eyes wide open (although Chance couldn’t tell if the one in shades had his eyes like that, too) and mouths agape.
Silence again. Just the faint sound of coins occasionally dropping out of the duffel bag. “... Uh,” Consigliere spoke first, clearing his throat and breaking eye contact with Chance. “I apologize for any discomfort we may ‘ave given ya.”
“Yeup.” The one in shades held his hand to the back of his neck as he agreed. “I also apologize for not exactly... seein’ ya that easily, ya kno— Soldier, what’re ya doin’?! Stand back!”
Soldier, apparently, was readying his crowbar and lowered it at the goon’s orders.
Chance felt like these guys now worked for him. But he won’t exploit that feeling. “So, you guys said Don— Ah— Y-Your boss talked about me before? How often, exactly? And what’d he say?” He tightened his grip on the rabbit pin, driving his shoulders up as he called Mafioso by his actual name, especially after Consigliere said to call him ‘Boss.’ He could already see Death’s door and Heaven’s gates, imagining just how these guys could maul him to death for possibly disrespecting their boss.
“Well, before we tell you that, how ‘bout ya move over so we have room to sit beside and tell you? The bed’s big enough for a whole group like us to fit n’ sit.” The shaded one shooed Chance to their right with his hand so they were in the middle, and down came the goons on both sides. Contractee and Soldier to their right, and the other two on their left. Now, he wasn’t being squished, no; this was quite comfortable. It felt like what he imagined a girl's sleepover would be like. Except with weapons on the floor.
“Caporegime, where d’ we start? Da Boss talks about dis guy a lot.” Soldier, who was right next to Chance, put on a playful face and threw a sideways thumb at them.
“I’m not Capo, but I say we start with every positive thing he’s said,” Consigliere suggested.
“That’s still everything!!” Contractee began throwing his hands around. “Seriously, he’s always like, ‘Oh, he’s just the nicest man I’ve met,’ and ‘Is his luck something genetic? I’d like that kind of fortune,’ which always sparks more gossip between us! Right, guys?!”
Chance was about as red as the curtains behind him. However, the other three were nodding and quietly expressing their agreements, which was not helping his case at all.
“Oh, yeah. Every time he’s behind his door n’ thinks he’s alone, he starts saying stuff like dat.” Caporegime had his arms folded as he leaned on a fluffy pillow, quickly readjusting his shades.
“Don’ forget how he always counters it or whateva’ with sumn’ cheesy like, ‘Perhaps his luck has already rubbed off on me. Caspita, è proprio un grande amico…’ n’ then chuckles like that’s nothin’ outta nowhere.” Soldier frantically waved his hands around with a look that almost resembled a game theorist losing it over a minor detail nobody cared about.
“S-So I... take it that Donni’s very fond of me—?” Chance barely muttered out that sentence, being utterly shocked at such praise being gossiped about by Mafioso’s own workers.
The goons immediately shut their mouths as soon as Chance mentioned Mafioso’s name. Ohhh, I fucked up big time, he gulped in his mind. “‘Donni...?’” Consigliere repeated like the nickname was a new piece of candy in his mouth. “Chance, was it? Think dat’s ya name, judgin’ from what I’ve heard from Boss.”
Chance was too stunned to speak, so all he did was nod with a nervous smile, hoping the goons didn’t notice how red he was. He’s even said his NAME outright??? What kind of fantasy is this he’s living through?! And why is it all going the way he never expected but really craved?!
“Well... then ya must be real close with da Boss if you’re calling him names like dat. He don’t even let us say his first name! Or his last— just ‘Boss!’ You real lucky, man!” Consigliere playfully nudged Chance’s arm with his elbow, even cracking a slight grin.
Soldier held his hand out, retaining his stone-cold face, yet breaking character a little with a slight smile. “Glad to get to know ya, Sir.”
“Oh, haha—! No need to call me that, no way! Just, uh, call me by my name. Chance.” He took the hand and shook it twice.
“Then nice to meet you, Chance.”
Contractee started to bounce up and down on the bed ever so slightly; it may have been subtle, but he was doing it enough to be noticeable. “What else is there...”
“We could tell him about how Boss sometimes wears headphones. Mighta been inspired by Chance ova’ here.” Caporegime put forth, tilting his head a bit.
“Nah, 'cause— Wait, how do you even know dat? I ain’t ever seen him in no headphones.” Contractee stopped moving around just to glare at Capo. “Don’t matter. Don’t think jus’ wearin’ some nice ol’ head decoration mean Chance inspired Boss.”
Consigliere shook his head and held a hand forward, palm down, like he was trying to push lil ol’ Contractee’s wildness down. “I think there’s a possibility, Contractee, Jus’ a real slim one, ya know?”
Chance had long lost his focus on the conversation, his reddish hue on his face slowly fading away. The warm light from the chandelier just in the middle of the room lit the whole place up, but the moon peeking from between the curtains of Mafioso’s bay window glowed like an ethereal being calling his name.
... Calling his name...
...
Robloxia, September 199X
“Chance!” A voice called his name. “Chaaaance!” It played again, this time singing.
The source of the sound was from his bedroom window. He looked out the glass pane and opened it, gazing at the road beneath and seeing iTrapped, waving a bright, golden key to catch the child’s attention. “Finally, you woke up!”
“ITrapped, it’s like...” Chance briefly left the window to glance at the clock above his door. “One in the morning... I dunno, I couldn’t tell; my eyes are terrible.”
The yellow teenager giggled and continued to wave the key. “I knew you’d say something like that. But I have the key to my house’s basement so we can eat some tiramisu~!”
Only the last word was needed to wake Chance up and grab his undivided attention. He felt like he had downed seven cups of coffee with no consequences possible. “How am I gonna get to you? It’s a long way down.”
“Easy, just climb the bumps in the walls. Looks easy to me.” ITrapped shrugged, looked around, and smiled as he slowly turned back to Chance. “Unless you’re chickening out and don’t want some sweets? Think I even got some of that strawberry candy you love. I dunno.”
If Chance could just jump out the window unharmed, they would do that. However, this is reality, and fall damage is pretty heavy. They’re on the third floor, too... “I don’t think... I can climb the walls.” They looked around, peering their head through the window. “Maybe I can try to climb down to the fence? Or land in the trash cans over there.”
“I’m not taking home someone who smells like a homeless man.”
“Fair. So what should I do??” They were starting to reconsider their initial decision to go with iTrapped.
“Either you climb the walls, jump down, or stay there and miss out on fresh tiramisu.” He began sauntering, taking a single glance at Chance, keeping with his agonizingly sluggish steps.
Well... Chance is always insanely lucky. The fence beneath him is relatively high, at a fair height that could let him climb down the fence... maybe he could do that?
“Wait, iTrapped! I’ll just jump down to the fence and climb down from there!” Chance waved their hand, yelling at the teenager to put his eyes back on them. “Just, uh, let me get a jacket. My room’s already covered in ice.”
‘Ice.’ Cold. Freezing. That’s how iTrapped acted and treated Chance lately. He’d been ignoring Chance’s ‘no’s’ and forcing them to do things they’d never wanna do. But then, the next day, he’d be offering Chance a bunch of sweets like nothing happened. And, of course, with the humungous, tremendous sweet tooth they have, they never denied chocolate or cake, or whatnot. It was always a terrible day, an improper plea for forgiveness, a terrible day—you get the point.
Coated in three layers of sweaters, Chance knocked on the window to his side to make sure iTrapped was still with him. “Alright, I’m all geared up now. You still there?”
“As always. Hurry up.”
They were still a tad unkempt, with their curly hair being more than just curly, and eye bags very clearly visible, but who cares? Midnight dessert is on the line. Despite how quickly their heart raced from the simple thought of a jump they could easily make, Chance was determined to get those exquisite cookies of iTrapped’s. Seriously, the chocolate chip cookies are almost always just the right amount of gooey for their tastes. And not to mention that lemon ice cream cake iTrapped bought only for them... Their mouth was practically in the process of making an ocean the more their brain rambled on.
Chance stepped onto the windowsill, the cold stabbing into their feet through their fluffy kitty socks, and looked down. Yeah, no, the fence was at a safe jumping distance. They could make it.
So they backed up with the little surface they had to build up some momentum and ran to the edge, letting their legs guide them through the air and onto the fence. The metal was even colder than the air, but they couldn’t just drop down. So they slowly went to the ground, looking like a spider as they climbed and climbed.
And soon, the child was on the ground, walking beside a man who stepped and lived in frost, with only a promise of temporary tranquility under a full moon.
...
“Dat moon’s makin’ me real tired.” Contractee was the first to drag Chance out of his memories. “You think we can sleep now?”
Capo was on his stomach, lightly kicking his feet as he, too, watched the moon. “We’re done with our jobs for tonight, so maybe.”
Consigliere got up from lying on his back and stretched, reaching over and poking Soldier awake. “What about our new friend here? Where’s he gonna go? Cuz Boss’s been away for a long while.”
“Ah—” Chance stuttered, “I-I can just go home—”
“Nonsense! You ain’t goin’ nowhere after a nice meetin’ like dis! Take this as our apology! For tryna rough you up earlier.” He leaned in and whispered with a smile, “I hear Soldier makes da best pancakes outta all’a us.”
Pancakes... Chance repeated in his mind. Do they have really sweet syrup...? “... Fine, I can stay.”
The goons cheered the moment Chance said ‘fine,’ not entirely processing the rest of the sentence until they were done celebrating. “We got a guest room for you. Whenever yer ready, we can take ya there.” Soldier rubbed his eyes and smoothed out his clothes, preparing to look presentable when they left the room.
“I can go now,” Chance said while adjusting their hat and shades, standing up, and waiting for someone to help him get to the guest bedroom.
Soldier nodded and followed suit, getting in front of Chance and opening the door. “Aight. Follow us.” He motioned with his hand for the others to come along, letting Chance go first and have the three get out to lead him to his destination for the night.
... Mafioso stood by the door in his bathroom. Everything went as planned. All followed the ideal plan. He sighed, leaning on the counter with his hip on the side and a hand on top. Let Chance get to know the goons and have him stay overnight. Of course, not even his workers knew about the plan, but that doesn’t matter. He’s staying over now!
He left the bathroom, all dried up and in new clothes, lying in his bed with a content smile on his face. Perhaps trapping a good friend of his isn’t as complicated as he thought it would be.