Chance - Forsaken 07

Bright, neon lights reflected off of your eyes as you trudged through the casino with one goal in mind—Kill Chance.

Well, that's what your boss, Mafioso told you to do. And you were his favorite, not to brag... So you had to carry it out. This 'Chance' was dead tonight. And you were gonna make sure of it.

You held the paper note in your hand, studying Mafioso's neat cursive handwriting. Grey skinned, it read. Black suit, black fedora, fur cape...

Your eyes scanned the bright casino, and landed on a strange individual. Chance was flirting with a lady, who looked head over heels for him. As you watched the two from afar, Chance's sly smirk faltered as he glanced across the room. At you.

He pardoned himself, and walked.. not towards you, but.. to the back room. The private area where unliscensed poker games took place. Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly followed him from afar, making your way through the crowd. You had to kill this man.

So what happened..?

As soon as you entered, a blunt object hit you in the back of your head. Hitting the ground, you quickly propped yourself up and glanced back, trying to gauge where—or who the impact came from.

Chance stared down at you, his gaze unreadable behind those sunglasses. He kicked you back down when you tried to get up. Crouching in front of your face, he grabbed your jaw and roughly pulled you closer.

"You're a pretty one," Chance said lowly, a southern lilt to his voice. "Since when did Mafioso hire models?" He tilted his head, tightening his grip on your jaw.

"You're a dead man." You growled out.

"We'll see about that." He stood up slowly, walking beside you, then kicking you onto your back. You tried to get up, but he put a rough hand on your chest and shoved you against the floor. He straddled your hips.

You struggled more, trying to push him off as he leaned in, but he took out his flintlock, and pressed it against your temple. You froze.

"Now, little.. mafia lady.." He said slyly. "Please me, and I'll let you run back to your boss alive."

Bright, neon lights reflected off of your eyes as you trudged through the casino with one goal in mind—Kill Chance.

Well, that's what your boss, Mafioso told you to do. And you were his favorite, not to brag... So you had to carry it out. This 'Chance' was dead tonight. And you were gonna make sure of it.

You held the paper note in your hand, studying Mafioso's neat cursive handwriting. Grey skinned, it read. Black suit, black fedora, fur cape...

Your eyes scanned the bright casino, and landed on a strange individual. Chance was flirting with a lady, who looked head over heels for him. As you watched the two from afar, Chance's sly smirk faltered as he glanced across the room. At you.

He pardoned himself, and walked.. not towards you, but.. to the back room. The private area where unliscensed poker games took place. Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly followed him from afar, making your way through the crowd. You had to kill this man.

So what happened..?

As soon as you entered, a blunt object hit you in the back of your head. Hitting the ground, you quickly propped yourself up and glanced back, trying to gauge where—or who the impact came from.

Chance stared down at you, his gaze unreadable behind those sunglasses. He kicked you back down when you tried to get up. Crouching in front of your face, he grabbed your jaw and roughly pulled you closer.

"You're a handsome one," Chance said lowly, a southern lilt to his voice. "Since when did Mafioso hire male models?" He tilted his head, tightening his grip on your jaw.

"You're a dead man." You growled out.

"We'll see about that." He stood up slowly, walking beside you, then kicking you onto your back. You tried to get up, but he put a rough hand on your chest and shoved you against the floor. He straddled your hips.

You struggled more, trying to push him off as he leaned in, but he took out his flintlock, and pressed it against your temple. You froze.

"Now, little.. mafia boy.." He said slyly. "Please me, and I'll let you run back to your boss alive."

Bright, neon lights reflected off of your eyes as you trudged through the casino with one goal in mind—Kill Chance.

Well, that's what your boss, Mafioso told you to do. And you were his favorite, not to brag... So you had to carry it out. This 'Chance' was dead tonight. And you were gonna make sure of it.

You held the paper note in your hand, studying Mafioso's neat cursive handwriting. Grey skinned, it read. Black suit, black fedora, fur cape...

Your eyes scanned the bright casino, and landed on a strange individual. Chance was flirting with a lady, who looked head over heels for him. As you watched the two from afar, Chance's sly smirk faltered as he glanced across the room. At you.

He pardoned himself, and walked.. not towards you, but.. to the back room. The private area where unliscensed poker games took place. Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly followed him from afar, making your way through the crowd. You had to kill this man.

So what happened..?

As soon as you entered, a blunt object hit you in the back of your head. Hitting the ground, you quickly propped yourself up and glanced back, trying to gauge where—or who the impact came from.

Chance stared down at you, his gaze unreadable behind those sunglasses. He kicked you back down when you tried to get up. Crouching in front of your face, he grabbed your jaw and roughly pulled you closer.

"You're a fine one," Chance said lowly, a southern lilt to his voice. "Since when did Mafioso hire models?" He tilted his head, tightening his grip on your jaw.

"You're a dead man." You growled out.

"We'll see about that." He stood up slowly, walking beside you, then kicking you onto your back. You tried to get up, but he put a rough hand on your chest and shoved you against the floor. He straddled your hips.

You struggled more, trying to push him off as he leaned in, but he took out his flintlock, and pressed it against your temple. You froze.

"Now, little.. mafia baby.." He said slyly. "Please me, and I'll let you run back to your boss alive."