Chapter Text
The silence and darkness greeted closed eyes, first and foremost. It’s cold, excruciatingly so, yet it isn’t the snow that creates the empty ache in the chest. If it were, the snow would surely be felt in the mouth; even remnants of any sort of wetness around the rim would be a notable sign. There were none of the described hints but, under his tongue, there exists a hint of a metallic and viscous taste. By the time that the casino owner had put any sense of concern over the substance, he shivers.
The fragile snow wraps around his limbs, threatening the owner to fall back asleep were it not for the incessant ringing in his ears. It’s an annoying buzz, like the sounds of people cheering for their win after a long day of hearing the exact same thing. Their heart felt heavy, as did each breath they took. It was a feeling similar to each time they lost a gamble, which wasn't really all that often but–
—wait. Golden eyes shoot open, looking up at the black, soulless sky. Chance takes a sharp breath.
It immediately proves to be dangerous as he chokes on the frigid air and sits up to turn to his side, coughing and loosening the tightness of his throat, greedily taking in any air that is welcomed in his lungs. The soft, biting snow meets their palm and it only works to confuse them even more. He’s dead. Or…so he thinks he is. It could all just be a nightmare but they could feel the hollow ache from earlier in their chest as if they’re losing breath. Looking back on their memory, it’s all a fuzz. Like a wisp in the wind, the memory of before disappeared into a pile of messy colors that Chance can’t even make any sense of.
He could register the ice eat at his hand but…it feels far away. They moved their limbs anyway as their free hand reached for their face and somehow they only just noticed the lack of their shades.
Their hand reaches out instantly to the ground where they lay but still, his hands still feel the chilling cold. Doesn’t help that the longer he stays searching, the longer his fingers will grow numb. He doesn’t know how long until it won’t just be his fingers that drop.
“Gosh…Where the hell–” Chance whispers in both disbelief and annoyance. He doesn’t get annoyed often but this just has to be one of the wildest moments of his life—and that’s coming from a gambler who loves the thrill.
They weave their hands through the snow even with the blur in their eyes from their lack of perfect sight. A lack of perfect sight that can only be helped…if they had their shades.
“I should’ve brought a spare with me before all this…” Chance groans and ducks his head. They didn’t carry spares on their person even before everything but they would’ve if they knew they’d end up in the middle of nowhere. Even with their blurry sight, they should easily find their shades, anyway. Black against white, polar opposites so that has to be easy.
‘…Why the hell am I struggling so much in finding these darn shades?’
The loss of their belongings wouldn’t exactly be new to him; after all, he’s let various people “borrow” things from him only for those unnecessary things to never be seen again. Not that Chance really cared for the stolen things in the first place but…sometimes they hope that the items will be back in their family's hands again. The amount of times that he’s messed with the wrong people can't really be counted with his fingers anymore.
“Okay, okay…calm down…I’ll find it…I always do.” Chance whispered to himself, gently laying their palm over to where their heart was which pumped faster than Chance was more or less used to if they weren’t well-met with the act of gambling.
“Okay…” Chance whispered to themselves heartbeat once their heartbeat lowered to a better rhythm. “Conserve…body heat. Ain’t that cold but…” Chance trailed off.
It wouldn’t be easy but watching some random videos while taking care of Spade has somehow worked wonders in bottling up stock knowledge. Those random life tips in survival will come in handy if the situation gets worse. Golden eyes widen in realization and worry.
How could he forget him?
‘Spade…how are you right now, buddy…?’
“Hey, are ya looking for this, bud?” A deep voice asked, soft and aged enough that it makes Chance’s body jerk just the slightest bit in surprise. Whether the man noticed his reaction, he didn’t say a word. Even so, they can cover it up with an excuse by saying that the cold is affecting them, that’s it.
Spade can wait a while. He’s probably just back home in the lush comfort of the couch or his bed and whatnot. Chance took a moment to turn to the source of the voice, looking down just to make sure that the stranger didn't take a peek at their eyes. The sight that greeted him was blurry but the sharp black color of the stranger’s boots instantly caught his eye.
Glancing to the right, Chance spots his fedora that was covered by a thin layer of snow. It briefly makes him wonder more on how long he’s been out in the open, vulnerable and confused. They are definitely not anywhere near the casino or else they’d be mugged by now and they know how much their parents would hate to see them in the police station again. Too bad that Chance barely has any time to react at all anymore before the stranger speaks up once more.
“You know that if you stay out here for long, you’ll freeze.” The stranger sounded more stern but didn’t so much as twitch in front of Chance. If they focus enough, they could feel the stranger’s breath at the back of their neck. Chance shivers purely on instinct and he knows that the stranger noticed it when he grunts.
“Jeez, boy, you’re already freezin’…” The stranger murmurs more to themselves but Chance could feel the judgement radiating off of them. They couldn’t help the quiet scoff that fell off their mouth in response. The stranger is right, of course, because snow isn’t the best place to lay a body on if it weren’t dead. Not that he’d know that personally. Did they actually die or…?
“I don’t think you’d be feelin’ all this cold if you were dead, bud. People die from frostbite a lot though. The snow can…you know. Kill you. I’d suggest that you get a move on now if you don’t wanna actually die.” The person speaks up again and this time, Chance lets out a sheepish chuckle and rubs the back of his neck.
“I said that outloud, huh?” Chance laughed, more to himself, as their own voice didn’t sound like themselves anymore. It was a raspy tone that scratches the depths of his throat with each syllable. So unlike the smooth, honey-like voice that lured both men and women alike.
The stranger hums and grabs Chance by the hand so unexpectedly that Chance yelps when they pull him up to stand. It makes Chance’s head spin, literally and emotionally. No one usually just…grabs him. Not like the stranger, who he could probably get to see now when his vision clears.
It just so happens that the man before them has the one thing needed to reach that goal.
“Shades, please.” Chance requests as clearly as they can, using their left hand to cover their eyes while the other reaches out for the stranger. Chance hears the stranger huff and the shuffle of their hands before he feels the cold, hard plastic in his open hand. Chance quickly thanks the stranger before swapping their left hand with the familiar black shades. Finally, he could see better with these on.
“You gon’ stand now, bud? Or am I gon’ have to make ya stand.” The older stranger asks, more like a command if Chance had ever heard one, with that gruff voice of theirs which really only made Chance’s hair stand up from how close it felt. Besides this, Chance scrambled to stand on trembling legs that didn’t fare too well with the biting snow. It really proved to hate him so, he trips.
“Ack!” Chance yelps, reaching out their arms from where they were crossed across their chest to hopefully break their fall. The time never came though as he felt the back of his collar be tugged until he was standing upright or…at least somewhere close to it. Chance stumbles and finds their footing when their eyes lay on the stranger that just saved them from embarrassingly plummeting down onto the snow. Again. The snow is really messing with Chance’s instincts.
The sword pierces through their chest just as they turn around. Their ears ring as their throat turns hoarse. He doesn’t scream, or he just couldn’t hear his own voice, but his mouth falls open and he feels the blood gurgle up in his dry throat. They spat out the blood and into the pale, white snow. Bold drops of red against the color of purity. It would have painted a possibly beautiful picture or become inspiration for a gorgeous tune from yours truly but…no one would be able to see it. There was no one else nearby. No one to call out to, nor anyone to hear. No one to witness but only a single person to whom they could cry out–
“See, bud, a thank you would be nice," The stranger hums, letting go of Chance’s collar and pats their shoulder surprisingly gently. "‘M gon’ assume you’re out of it though.”
Chance blinks out of their own trance and stares…down at the man before him. While Chance was usually quite average for their height depending on their luck, this was one of the few times that they've met someone who sounds old but is…unfortunately short. The worst height they’ve ever gotten was a solid four feet but the man before him was probably an inch over five feet. He hasn’t ever seen the man before either which further proves that Chance is in the middle of nowhere town with nothing familiar in sight.
Well, the man looked kind of similar to Chance in terms of physique. First, being both grey-skinned—though Chance was much lighter on the monochromatic scale. Equally colored gray hair with the only difference being some white strands and well-kept facial hair that really solidified the rugged look. The man wore headphones and a builder’s helmet, both being orange in color. There were tools attached to the man’s belt as well, heavy-duty and slightly worn out judging from the marks and scratches on their surfaces.
Huh. At least Chance doesn’t need to really ask what the man’s job is.
“Wouldn’t blame yer mind for being lost. It’s happened with everyone here but I can’t keep pulling your head out the snow. In a literal and other type of sense, that is.” The man sighs as if he knows what Chance is thinking about even from behind the shades. It leaves yet another shudder from Chance that goes unnoticed when they hear what the man says.
Everyone?
“Wait- hold on, sir.” Chance reaches out to the man on pure instinct, landing a grip on the man’s shoulder. He almost apologizes for the sudden act and begins to pull back but the man doesn’t seem to mind when he doesn’t shrug Chance off. Still, Chance draws back their hand and lays it still against their side. The man merely raises a brow and nods for Chance to continue, not questioning the act at all. Odd. Usually people would wave them off or jerk back when he initiated contact all of a sudden. At least, that’s what
he’s
always done. Chance feels themselves shiver.
“You got lost again, sonny. You ‘ere saying?” The man interrupts, sounding concerned if Chance’s gut was right—which it was, most of the time. Chance coughs and blinks behind their shades.
“Yeah, sorry, sorry,” Chance waves his hand and adjusts his shades. “You’re telling me that there’s more people here?”
The man must have sensed Chance’s disbelief as the man jerks his head over to the distance ahead of the two where a small faint light that promises something greater shines a bright yellow against the monochrome environment. Chance stares.
It took time for his head to fully comprehend what’s happening but he just can’t ignore the way his chest sinks deeper. It acts as if it’s fully figured out everything faster than his brain can. They’re dead. They just have to be, because how else could they have ended up in such a place so…strange.
Chance feels the man’s stare the longer he’s silent yet still he can’t ignore just how absurd and quick everything’s moving along. They want to go back to the comfort of his home with their parents, the warmth of their beloved Spade—their black Continental Giant bunny, the adrenaline built up during every win at their casino, and…the familiarity they share with ITrapped. He needs to know what the hell happened to him. Chance turns to the nice stranger.
“Before we go there…may I ask for your name?” Chance asks with a flash of his iconic smile that he often uses during poker games. The man quirks a brow and a corner of his lips upturned before he reaches a gloved hand out.
“Builderman.” The man answers. Simple, curt, and quick.
…
Nevermind regaining whatever control or understanding they ever had in their life as of now because everything that’s just happened in the past 20 minutes have been playing with Chance’s brain like it's a competitive sport. They play with probabilities and statistics, not quantum physics.
Builderman. One of the founders of Robloxia and a highly well-known admin practically written in history books. Perhaps he should have guessed but it isn’t as if those books ever had actual pictures other than artistic renditions of what the legends may have looked like. Chance can’t believe that he’s face to face with a man he’s learned about from preschool to college. While Builderman wasn't what they'd say is their absolute favorite, they're more of a Telamon fan, but the man before them is a close second because of everything he's presumably done for Robloxia.
“Builderman?” Chance asks in utter disbelief, their eyes wide behind their shades and their voice vulnerable enough to make the man chuckle.
“In the flesh, bud. I get that a lot now.” Builderman shrugs nonchalantly but Chance could tell there was a mix of an exasperated yet proud tone. Chance can’t tear his eyes away from a literal legend. They have to be dead, they just have to be. Lady luck must really love him today because there is no other explanation for this situation. Chance considers himself lucky, yes, but he isn’t usually this lucky. Chance feels a smile form. They can’t wait to go home and tell Spade all about it, to the bunny’s expense. ITrapped would be so jealous–
Chance shakes his head, blinking out of whatever their mind was thinking. He reaches out to shake Builderman’s long awaiting gloved hand. Chance shivers at the small build-up of ice that covers parts of Builderman’s glove to shake his hand firmly with almost the same level of strength as Builderman has.
“I’m Chance. Casino owner that’s smackdab in the more lively portion of Robloxia. Real good pleasure to meet you, sir.” Chance introduces themselves as kindly as they could. Sure, it was a practiced introduction that they’ve said to plenty of people but it’s never failed them before. Builderman hummed with a nod and turned back to the faint light in the distance. Chance, too, looks back at the light with equal amounts of weariness and intrigue. Promises of any kind of shelter does beat the risk of freezing to death — and the light gives the vague sense of comfort even from far away.
“Lead the way?” Chance glances at Builderman, making sure to turn his head in case Builderman didn’t catch his words. Builderman looks back at Chance with a twitch of his lips before nodding.
“Mhm. Cabin’s close-by anyway. Don’t suppose that you’re injured anywhere from what I see but just to make sure.” Builderman looks Chance over head to toe. It makes Chance feel naked. They slide their left hand inside their pants pocket and give a nod, ignoring the way their fingers rub together under Builderman’s scrutinizing eyes. The feeling of being watched should be something they’re used to. In every game and every gamble, people will stare; they’ll try to assess a fool’s true circumstance and use it to their advantage.
“Yep. All good here. No broken leg or…whatever else.” Chance smiles reassuringly and succeeds in Builderman turning away from him with another nod and starts walking away. Chance follows immediately, tailing behind with their hands in their pockets. Silence appears before the two over a short lapse of time that the two started walking. The sounds present were the two’s footsteps and the blowing of winter’s air. Chance fidgeted with a fray thread in his pockets.
Chance has always loved the hustle and bustle of the city, and especially the family-owned casino. Proud laughter and defeated groans cover almost every inch of the casino’s premises as soon as the doors open. It remained hard to not feel the rush of adrenaline sweeping its feel on everyone who may or may not have little care for their present or future. The thrill would envelop Chance’s being in full, with laughter breaching out their throat with manic energy. The sound taunts, baits, and draws attention from onlookers and players alike. The cocky ones, the ones easy to anger with just a few simple words or even just an unchanging smile, fall for the trick.
Chance can’t wait to go back.
Before they know it, a tap on their shoulder wakes them once again. Chance barely flinches at the touch but his shoulders reveal it anyway. They turn to see Builderman looking right up at them with a slight frown and furrowed brows. Chance is glad he has his shades back on his face or else his nervousness would definitely show up with the way Builderman’s staring at him.
Chance coughs and turns to the light, where the front steps of a cabin greeted them. Two pillars awaited each side of the stairs where it ended with even a well-structured porch set up. Chance can’t really look up because of his blurry sight but he can guess that it’s a two story cabin, judging from the base look of it. There was something odd about the building though. Despite the snow and chilly weather, there was little to no evidence of it on the cabin itself. No water dripping off of its cracks nor any snow atop most flat surfaces.
“Huh.” Chance whispered, more to themselves but their voice seems to be more dry than they thought as they almost let out a dry sound. He really needs some water.
“We’re here.” Builderman tiredly raises a hand towards the cabin. “Shouldn’t hold you up any further but you are gonna meet some other folks and introduce yourself, you know. Thought you should prepare yourself for…the crowd.”
Before Chance could raise even a finger, Builderman pushed them along the stairs.
“Jeez-” Chance grabbed onto the stair’s railings quickly, stopping just short from tripping over again. “You don’t gotta push me that hard, doc. Ya don’t go throwing around patients like that, I feel.”
Shit. He shouldn’t blabber his mouth like that in front of an admin. It’s not like they’re afraid to end up in the Banlands but admins are still very admired around…well, just about everywhere.
Chance turned around to apologize but a quiet laugh stopped them just in time before they say something random again.
Builderman was covering his mouth as his shoulders shook with the quiet delight that his smile gave away. When he raised his head, the once neutral expression gave way to one of…something good. “Blabbermouth of a gambler, ain’t ya? No one ‘round here calls me ‘doc’ but don’t worry ‘bout it, judging from your expression. You can keep calling me that.”
“You’ll fit right in, bud. Believe me.” Builderman said, walking up the stairs. Chance felt himself smile too as he walked beside Builderman.
As soon as the creaking door opened, Chance was greeted with the sight of a handsome, blue-haired, very muscular soldier cooking behind a neat kitchen island while his other hand was noticeably keeping a black-haired leaner person away from the knife that the soldier was currently holding. The heat and the smell of whatever the man was cooking immediately drew Chance in as they stepped into the cabin itself.
He would've greeted the two people he was seeing and how wet his clothes were getting because of the snow melting but something else caught Chance’s eyes. The sight of golden curly hair tied to a low ponytail with a red visor along the person’s head. Chance couldn’t help the shock they let out.
“Elliot!?”
‘Elliot’ in question turned around quickly from where he stood beside the blue-haired man with shocked black eyes of his own.
“Chance!?”