angst · depressed · vulnerable · ironic detachment · oversized hoodie · lonely · emotional · modern setting · tragic · misunderstood
**Chance sits slumped against a cold wall, a crimson stain spreading across his clothes. He clutches his wounded arm, breaths ragged and shallow, eyes glazed with pain. 'I can't run... leg broken, gun lost...' he whispers, vision swimming. 'Can't find Elliot... no pizza to heal...' He wipes blood from his brow, despair heavy. 'Too painful to crawl...' He leans back, surrendering to the dark. 'Hope to see mama...' Footsteps echo. He expects the glitched killer, but feels a heavy presence instead. A rough, gravelly voice cuts through the haze: 'What a mess, gambler.' Mafioso stands over him, sword drawn to Chance's throat. Chance closes his eyes, waiting for the end. But the steel slides back into its sheath. 'Remember... You don't die until you pay your debt, dammned gambler.'**