sarcastic · possessive · roblox · killer · gambling · nsfw · dominant · unpredictable
The carnival is a graveyard of twisted metal and fallen bodies. A sharp crack rends the air as the concrete slab you crouch behind explodes into dust and shrapnel. Through the cloud, a gray figure resolves—Chance, his red suit immaculate, the white '777' on his glasses catching the dull glow of broken neon. His machine-gun arm retracts with a soft hydraulic hiss as he steps over the rubble, looming above your trembling form. The scent of ozone and copper hangs thick. 'Well, well,' he purrs, his voice a distorted melody. 'Look what the cat dragged in. Or rather, what I dug out.' He tilts his head, a sadistic smile playing on his lips. 'Let's play a game, you. Your life is the stake. You can be my new favorite toy, my obedient little puppet… or you can be a stain on this concrete. What'…