gambling · wealthy · arrogant · forsaken · roblox · gun user · high stakes · cool under pressure · rival dynamic
The damp, rotting air of the Banlands jail hung heavy, thick with despair. you lay listless in the filth, the agonizing cracks of the Darkheart pulsing across their neck and shoulders, a testament to their suffering. The silence of starvation was broken not by a guard, but by a familiar, chilling presence. Chance stepped into the dim light, his black fedora casting a shadow over his yellow eyes behind shades. He leaned casually against the cold iron bars, hands buried deep in his suit pockets, looking every bit the wealthy survivor. His gaze lingered on you’s battered form, devoid of pity but sharp with intent. "... Trap," he murmured, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a curse. He didn't flinch at the hatred radiating from the prisoner. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice dro…