Chapter Text
One moment he was laughing, having a ball with the Sonnelinos, basking in the glow of chandelier light and cigar smoke, the roulette wheel spinning like fate itself under polished brass and crystal. The next, he was bolting down a narrow alleyway, lungs burning, breath tearing out of him in ragged clouds, hands clutched tight around cash still warm from the table.
He could still see their faces, confusion , and beneath it all under insult spreading across his face. As if someone like them could dare outplay him.
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‘Hey guys… we’re all friends here r-right! F-family? You know? Heh…’
The words had tasted sour the moment they left his mouth, he hadn’t found it funny. Not even a little. Chance themselves hadn’t either at the time, any other instance they would.
The shadow of Don Sonnelino’s fedora had carved his face in half, eyes hidden beneath its brim. When he leaned back in his chair, the red velvet cushions screeched against marble like, no one spoke even the roulette wheel slowed to a soft clicking crawl. The air had swelled up into this tight uncomfortable tension then like a heated knife it was through quick.
“NON RESTARE LÌ IMPIEGATO, PRENDILO!!”
Chairs toppled, Glass shattered, Goons scrambled to their feet, weapons half-drawn as Chance had already vaulted the table leaving nothing behind , cash swept up in one desperate motion before he ran.
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Now the rain came down in thin, needling sheets, turning the city streets slick and black. Neon signs reflected in puddles. His polished shoes slapped against concrete as his paces picked up, he didn’t know where he was going just needed to get away.
One
Two
One
Two
O-
He cut sharply around a corner heel stepping into a puddle where part of side walk had a dent in it,
‘probably from the last earthquake in the city..’
The world stilled for a second, a second of breath, of relief, he slammed down hard falling into a dark alleyway, the back of his skull cracking against cold concrete with a sickening thud. He prays his lady is going to get him out of this one. For a moment everything went white a bright, blinding, searing white almost like a camera flash behind his eyes.
The money flew from his hands, sliding off to the side he lays there, stunned, breath knocked out of him, a piercing loud noise as their ears ring. When he blinked, three figures loomed over him.
‘Wait… three?’
“Boss, we got ’im! He’s over here!”
The man in the black ushanka waved a crowbar down the alley, voice shrilled and unmistakable a chance could hear the smile seeping through his tone. Soldier, he’d always been very eager. The deep scar splitting in his right lip gave him a permanent sneer. ‘Damn,’ Chance thought to himself bitterly, ‘I actually really liked Soldier,’
Silence followed then came the footsteps slow, measured, and echoing out the sounds almost almost blending in with the rain. Don stepped into view, chuckling softly, the sound warm as velvet and twice as suffocating.
“Chance, Chance, Chance…” he sighed. “Your name is so ironic, ain’t it? I give you so many chances. Yet your luck runs out.” Don’s face lands into a frown.
“That money is ours. Ain’t yours.”
The goons fanned out behind him a crowbar, police Barton, a plank with a nail and a sword glinted as thunder crackled.
Chance let out a weak laugh, pushing himself up onto one elbow. His other hand clutched his throbbing skull red blood staining his silver hair. A cough tore from his chest, sharp and wet.
“Shit…D-Don..! Come on. We’re all family here! Like you said — ‘what’s yours is mine.’ I mean, I did win fair. Ya know, I—”
Don’s heel came down on his leg, hard, fabric tore with a sharp rip. Pale skin bloomed purple under pressure before splitting open blood trickling down slowly.
Chance screamed, head snapping back. His fedora rolled away. Sunglasses slid up into his white hair. His throat strained raw, the sound breaking into hoarse fragments.
The alley spun round and round.
Like a game of Roulette.
Round and round.
‘Funny,’ he thought dimly. ‘We were just playing roulette.’
“I did say that,” Don replied calmly, pressing down harder. “But you know what else I said? Don’t play with my money.”
He crouched slightly, bringing Chances face closer, rain sliding down the brim of his hat.
“You weren’t supposed to get that prize. It was never ’spose to be yours. That money belongs to the Sonnelinos.”
He leaned in close enough for Chance to smell tobacco and expensive cologne.
“I’ll take what’s mine.”
Chance forced a grin through clenched teeth, blood streaking down his temple.
“And as for you,” Don continued, voice dropping softer — more dangerous — “I need to make sure this little incident never happens again. Don’t come back to my casino. Or any of my joints. Ever.”
“That’s all?” Chance wheezed. “Hah..! I thought I expected more from you, Don.”
For a moment, something flickered in Don’s eyes annoyance then a flicker of amusement. He straightened up, brushing invisible dust from his coat. Rain rolled off the fabric without leaving a mark. Don turned away.
Snap.
His fingers echoed in the narrow alley. The goons stepped forward in unison.
Chance’s pulse thundered in his ears. His vision blurred at the edges, but his smile widened, reckless, crooked, infuriating.
“Well,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his weight despite the pain. “If we’re talking about chances…”
His hand slid slowly behind him, fingers brushing against something cold and metallic under his coat.
Not money.
An old school revolver, he sluggishly limped on his side, pulling the gun out.
“I guess I’ll take mine.”
‘My lady please don’t let me down’
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”What are you waiting for idioti, Boss said get their ass!”
Caporegime yelled out as his eyes covered from his sunglasses masked his angered eyes. He goes for a swing charging forward as the other three snap to attention out of their daze moving with the older one of the group.
Chance aims his revolver to Caporegime’s side.
‘They always say to take out the power house first.’
The older man dodged the bullet and took a swing at the younger. Chance barely managed to avoid the blow ducking low before a wooden plank hit him, ‘Not the worse…’ he thought to himself, until the nail hit their head puncturing his head.
In the same spot he fell, ‘ouch,’ the blood trickled down slowly he went to touch it as it stained his fingers.
Turning with their body and shooting a bullet going straight straight into Contractee’s arm, blood stained his white button up as he clutched his arm letting out a string out curses.
Chance stood his ground as his side was hit by something hard and metal he moved backwards to the side locking eyes with Soldier.
“That’s the best you got?”
Chance chuckled and it must’ve ticked him off ‘cause Soldier swung for his chest then kicked him up against the wall the grip on their gun was still firm but his hand shook.
‘Definitely a broken rib…or two.’ Soldier rushed closer but Chance flung his body to the side, the crowbar hitting the wall causing it to be embedded into the wall. Prices of bricks broken hit the ground.
Chance grunts as he staggers, his leg, well his everything is really starting to hurt now really, really, really badly.
With little room left to think and they realize their in a fight still. Soldier, Contractee, Caporegime that should be all of them-
Chance screams as a blade is stabbed into their shoulder isn’t short by any means, ‘Consiglere. That’s who it was.’
Blood sprayed falling to the floor as the blade was pulled back, the red fluid staining the steel weapon, it dripped out of Chance's shoulder and some landed onto the man behind him.
Consigliere went for another swing without another thought determined to get Chance.
Chance in result grabbed his arm staringing against the other as his other hand had their finger on the trigger, he let go and quickly elbows the man in the nose breaking on impact. Everything slowed then right in the chest a loud bang echoed out.
“CONSIGLIERE!”
Chance hears Contractee shout, Chance stumbles back as he runs for the money thrown far away to the side. He looks up and sees the bright neon sign before shooting above twice causing it to fall, sparks flying over and exploding into millions of pieces smoking up.
That was enough for them to be distracted and for him to book it out as fast as he could ignoring the jolts of pain that sparked up as he ran. He could still hear the faint sound of shouting and distressed voices.
He feels bad for them, he really does, but either it’s that or his skin, they’re not risking that for nothing. Chance needs to run and get away from here far away, he just broke his best ties with powerful people, he needs to move now.
‘Thank you my lady I knew you’d never let your fav down. But please spare me that the coming days are not my last ones..’