Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a large bouquet of black roses on the table.

Two Time hummed to themselves as they twirled another one between their fingers, before placing it with the rest. They took meticulous care to wipe the altar clean, each candle lit with a strong flame and the candelabras polished. The Spawn is always watching, and THEY deserve nothing less.

The cultist took the time to survey the altar, making sure everything was in order. The roses, a symbol of their offerings. They've already managed to amass quite a lot, but it was nowhere near the amount of their mentor's and some of their elders’. The silver candelabras, a requirement for every altar, requiring two for a minimum, a symbol of the light of the Spawn's guidance, of THEIR warmth. Two Time hoped to earn more of the candelabras, and have enough offerings as their show of devotion to eventually earn a golden candelabrum.

There was a leather journal beside the bouquet, with the symbol of the Spawn emblazoned on the cover. The necklace with the sigil of the Spawn glimmered from the moonlight seeping through the glass of the windows, casting a spectral glow on their skin. Their face was obscured by shadows as they picked up the journal, skimming through the list of names and notes of personalities, lives, and anecdotes, up to the page written with a shaky hand with the ink that bled.

Two Time went over the entry, before tucking it away in the drawer. They grabbed their jacket from where it was neatly hung in their closet and put it on, a protection against the chill of the evening. For the cultist, it was just a reminder of their duty to the Spawn.

They grabbed their dagger, a familiar and comforting weight, and settled it nicely within their pocket. They took the time to briefly tidy their abode, making sure none is out of order, before they took their leave. Their duty does not excuse them from the toils of living, and keeping their place of living unorganized is unbefitting for a follower of the most Holy presence.

Two Time passed by Azure's door, and they briefly took the time to check up on him. He was asleep, good. They hummed to themselves as they gently closed the door and stepped outside.

Oh, Azure. They'll deal with him later. Azure was just lost, having left the Spawn's watchful gaze and their guiding hand. No matter, Two Time will simply remind them who they were meant to devote their life to.

Two Time called for a cab and headed immediately to their destination: a local casino in the middle of the city, surrounded by the bright, swirling lights and cacophony of noise gained from the bustling activity of the streets. Even at this late hour, the city never ran out of life and purpose; such is the same for the cultist.

Two Time's eyes watched through the window, the sights reflected on the glass. Their eyes narrowed as a wave of disdain washed over their mind. How foolish, how shameful. These citizens chase nothing but their own lowly pleasures, their greed and vanity that sought nothing but to glorify their own flesh. Sinful cravings… how disgusting. They need to find a better purpose for their lives instead of wasting away in their shell, participating in this societal farce.

They sent the driver a polite smile as they gave him the due fare, then immediately turned around and did not spare him another glance, already staring ahead at the establishment of their interest for tonight: a convenience store. They had tracked down their target for weeks, memorized its routine and carefully stalked them. Secondhand information, while still valuable, is not enough alone for a clean and successful ritual. A true devotee would want nothing but the smooth procedure of their sacrifices, and if it took toiling away in the streets, searching the sea of sinners, the acolyte would have not a word of complaint.

Two Time went inside and bought a sandwich and a bottle of water, playing their role in the plan. Not for a moment would they think to indulge in some meagre pleasantries. A follower of the Spawn would dare not tarnish their body, for THEIR Holiness watches at all times. The cultist could see it, could feel THEIR gaze on every blinding carlight, on the reflection in the glass, on the faces of the people. The looming shadow with its mighty hand, the magnificent power that is forever capable of giving and taking in turn.

The cultist took a seat on a nearby table after their business with the cashier, whose friendly expression betrayed nothing of the emptiness and fatigue consuming them from the inside, as the cultist waited for the sacrifice to arrive. Poor, unfortunate souls, trapped in monotony and bearing the weight of the world, crushed under their dreams and the promise of greatness. Such a shame, these sinners have not found the salvation that they have found through their Lord. Their being was born anew, rinsed from the river and granted a new purpose, a new power.

Exactly ten minutes had passed, just as they had predicted, the sacrifice wandered into the store. An unguarded lamb, scouring the dark forest alone without the guidance of its shepherd, oblivious to the ravenous hunter patiently waiting for it to willingly approach the laid out trap. And when it was time to harvest, the poor thing would have no assistance, no salvation, and the ground underneath would run red, running across the surface of the altar carved by blood and bones, the lamb's eyes gouged out and the sockets replaced with inky darkness, its reward for its blindness to its surroundings.

The unfortunate target was a man, thirty-two years of age and living in the northern part of the city in a dingy apartment that he was barely able to afford with the meagre salary he would receive from being a mechanic. They took note of how often he would have arguments with his landlord, and they knew of the pending warning of his mounting debt. On top of that, the man was divorced, and living away from his family in another country.

He was a general loner, isolated from his peers. The mountain of his accumulated problems not giving him a good mental headspace to properly socialize. The man had a stubble, and wore clothes that were a day old. He had a history of alcohol addiction, and currently a gambling addiction. He would frequent a local casino in the city's central area, and would get lucky some days, while walking out with nothing on others. Either way, he was fated to suffer.

Poor soul, Two Time would think, Fate was never kind. But don’t fret, through the Spawn, all souls will be gifted with a better purpose. The power that will claim you will be nothing short of miraculous. Through me, your blood shall be offered for the highest of beings.

No flowers shall be offered for you, and no grave shall be erect. No one would mourn for you, and perhaps it would be better that so filthy a sinner shall be looked upon as no more than dust in this world. You are lucky that THEY are ever-so kind and benevolent that they would accept filth like you as their lamb.

Two Time felt their hand tingle and twitch as they followed the man once he went out. They knew his routine like the back of their hand, and they checked over and over to ensure that no deviation would be possible, ensuring that the margin of error would remain controlled and minimal.

They kept their eyes on the target, occasionally glancing away and acting casual like a normal passerby when the man would look back, obviously starting to grow unnerved from feeling a constant gaze on him. Eventually, Two Time followed him to the casino that he frequented, subtly placing themselves in front of the man and going in first so they could have better sights on him.

Two Time had planned each moment meticulously, and they went inside without further issues. Positioning themselves by a slot machine, they watched as the man took a seat at the table and participated in a game. The very sight of the machines and the patrons of this den of greed was enough to make them recoil, even more so now that they were inside, but they kept themselves together.

This is for the Spawn. Do not mess this up. THEY are watching at all times.

They refused to even touch the machinery or anything relating to such a deplorable activity to pass the time. Two Time was nothing, if not patient.

The man stayed there until the night descended even later, until he had absolutely nothing left in his pockets. He had lost in such a humiliating manner, with the other participants at the table mocking and jeering at his pitiable character. Laughing, they got up from the table and left, heading to another table with their new treasures, knowing there was absolutely nothing left to squeeze from the unfortunate man.

What a pathetic display. So feebly trying to swim against the tides of fate, placing his wavering faith on the fleeting concept of luck. This man refuses to let go of his foolish notions and ended up losing his dignity in the process.

Two Time sensed the time is upon them. With his head hung low, he walked outside and left with his pockets empty. Two Time followed nearby, on the other side of the street as they neared his place of residence, noting the decreasing number of people due to how late it was. One hand of theirs was already within their pocket, their fingertips brushing against the familiar hilt of the dagger.

The man was close enough to his apartment when he was blocked by men in dark suits. Two Time sat by a nearby bus stop, observing and trying to eavesdrop. They already knew he had trouble with debt, but they didn' expect the collectors to show up so soon. Two Time is more than willing to be adaptable, but it would be highly inconvenient for their plan if they were forced to reschedule the ritual. They wanted everything to be efficient.

They decided they would wait around for a bit and see if they still had an opportunity for the sacrifice before the night ended.

The conversation was getting heated, and the men in black crowded the sacrifice to enter his apartment to take their conversation inside. Two Time followed them and, having studied the layout of the place and memorized each neighbour's routine, climbed to the side of the building, prying a window open and quietly climbing inside.

Laymen. Always so careless.

They lied low and waited in the dim bathroom, listening closely to the whole fiasco. The door was opened with a tiny sliver, but it was enough for them to keep watch. The cultist listened as the man was hounded for his payment, and the negotiation that followed along with a warning, before the debt collectors finally took their leave.

Now alone, the man heaved a sigh as he collapsed on his bed, tired from a long day, and it was almost instantly when he dozed off.

Now was their chance. Two Time emerged from their hiding spot and went inside the bedroom, the floor thumping softly from their footsteps. Their shadow loomed over the sleeping man, unaware and trusting. Their dagger glimmered as they pulled it out of their pocket and, raising it above the man, brought it down with precision that only came from experience, twisting the blade and digging it further in.

The warmth of blood on their hands felt like a baptism, nourishment for the asphodel growing on the fields.

They left the apartment, their purpose fulfilled and the ritual finished, with not a hair out of place.

They made their way outside, tucking the clean dagger into their pocket, when they were met with a blade to their neck. But they weren't worried, no. Not even when they felt the pit in their stomach open.

Do not doubt. The Spawn protects all ITS children.

“What a pleasant evening, gentleman. May I help you?” They took the opportunity to closely observe the person.

Blond curls of hair pop out from under the man's crown--made of pure ice, they noted as it shone under the streetlights; they remember a limited that was on sale a while before of a similar appearance, from Azure telling them about it when he had gotten his own. Freckles dot the man's face, and fur settled nicely on the man's shoulders. His teal cape fluttered softly from the wind, with small sparks dotting the surface like glittering snowflakes.

Looking down at the sword to their neck, their eyes narrowed, recognizing the dark blade immediately. Who wouldn't?

Darkheart.

The stranger just got a whole lot more interesting in their eyes.

“That man was my target.”

They simply sent the stranger a smile, “Unfortunately, I seem to have gotten to him first. If there is a problem, I'll be more than willing to resolve it with you.” They subtly palmed the weight of the dagger in their pocket, getting ready if ever a confrontation was to break out.

The stranger clicked his tongue, before drawing the sword back with a swish, and returning it to its sheath, before tucking it under the folds of his cape. Ah, so that's how the gentleman gets around with a valuable weapon.

“Tch, you're not worth my time. I feel you are not worth my effort to behead, but I also cannot let you out of my sight after you have seen my possession.”

“Then,” Two Time’s smile widened, “Would you not be open to a conversation? Perhaps we can find common ground and find alliance within each other.”

The stranger crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, scoffing lightly. He stared at Two Time for a moment, contemplative, before he sighed and beckoned them over to follow him. “Indeed. After all… what are allies, if not friends?”

The way he said ‘friends’ gave them a sense of dishonesty. How interesting.

Ah, it seems I have found myself an interesting sacrifice. I hope the Spawn shall be pleased.

Chapter Text

BrickPlanet, a company known for selling clothing and accessories to Robloxians.

Filled with a variety of options and styles, it has been frequented by many faithful patrons, readily spending their hard earned money on the standing establishments. This was also a place frequented by those who are somewhat middle-classed; able to afford higher quality things yet not high enough to purchase more expensive items like the Roblox Limiteds.

Founded and run by a Robloxian named iTrapped, along with his own team and, occasionally, his friends. Under his leadership, the company had run into several obstacles, though to the rest of Robloxia, it seemed as if the company was put together and in good hands.

But it was all a farce, a cover-up for the real business.

iTrapped, a passionate coder, running heists with his friends in museums, rich households, and whatever or whoever held precious valuables and Limiteds, transporting the goods in the underground market and selling others up for auctions or keeping some for themselves.

This group was formed by five friends: iTrapped, Ellernate, Caleb244, Johnathan777, and Twister92. The group was sometimes split into roles; the planning and gathering of information and intelligence through research and social networks typically fell onto Twister92, Johnathan777, and Caleb244. iTrapped was a predominant figure in intercepting and tampering through any security measures, as well as engaging in whatever interface is present with lines of code, though he does it in tandem with Johnathan777.

Networking and making connections was Ellernate’s specialty, getting close to targets and gaining their trust, building up his and the group's credibility, though he could also be seen with Caleb244 in tow. No role in the group is concrete, and often they would be found switching roles with each other, or all five of them focusing on one part of the plan together.

There is another friend, however, held closely in iTrapped's heart, who was not officially part of the heist, yet does tag along occasionally. Their constant alibi and lookout who has saved them from trouble many times, and iTrapped's greatest supporter: LonelyTree.

LonelyTree is iTrapped's closest friend, his consistent cheerleader.

They were inseparable; where iTrapped went, LonelyTree followed. When LonelyTree was prompted to talk about iTrapped, nothing would spill past his lips except the brightest of sunshines and the clearest of skies. LonelyTree was the shade that shielded iTrapped from the beating sun. Even when the group encountered strains and arguments, iTrapped could always count on LonelyTree's support.

Once, the group of friends had sat under the shade of a tree. It was a calm day; with all of them watching the river flow and the birds soar over the clear sky. Twister92 and Johnathan777 were speaking amongst each other, before Johnathan777 turned to whisper something to Ellernate, making the two snicker together. Their conversation ended up with Ellernate and Twister92 chasing each other across the field, with Johnathan777 snickering behind them.

iTrapped and LonelyTree were sitting beside each other under the shade, basking in the afternoon warmth. Caleb244 sat on top of a branch, sipping a can of Bloxy Cola and betting on how many leaves he can drop on iTrapped's head before the other notices. LonelyTree saw Caleb244’s silhouette at the corner of his eyes, and he held back a snicker as he glanced at the growing pile of leaves on iTrapped's head.

iTrapped notice the movement of LonelyTree's eyes, and a perplexed expression came across his face when he noticed how his friend had been holding back laughter. He raised his hand, about to touch whatever had LonelyTree so fixated on his head, before LonelyTree reached out and held his wrist gently, giggling faintly.

LonelyTree plucked a small wildflower and tucked it behind iTrapped's ear with a soft smile, making iTrapped even more confused. But he trusted LonelyTree, and didn't question it further. He leaned back against LonelyTree's shoulder, only to sit up and flinch as his vision was obscured by a pile of leaves.

It was almost comical with the way he had to sputter and spit out some leaves that got into his mouth, and he looked up to see and hear Caleb244’s snickering and LonelyTree's faint laughter. iTrapped glared at Caleb244, before rolling his eyes and gathering a handful, throwing it at Caleb244’s direction.

Caleb244 thought it was the end of it, until he felt a grip around his ankle and he was harshly pulled down from the branch, coming face to face with iTrapped's devious expression. Caleb244 muttered a curse, before tackling iTrapped down on the grass and playfully fighting with his friend, adding onto the chaos that Ellernate and Twister92 built. LonelyTree sat back, giggling and filled with warmth.

But the sun has to set after every day.

The first domino fell during a heist.

It was a perfect plan: the group would attend a party issued by a businessman to celebrate his newest purchase of an estate with an invitation procured through exhausting networking and the pulling of numerous strings. During the party, iTrapped would infiltrate the security system and drive the security personnel to attend to a “threat”, Caleb244 would lead Ellernate and iTrapped to the vault with a copy of the estate's layout displayed in his personal GUI, Johnathan would prepare the method of extraction and the getaway, Twister92 would be the distraction, and LonelyTree volunteered to be the lookout.

However, LonelyTree wasn't included in the invitation due to the limit of visitors, so he was stationed outside. He lingered near the gate, being the group's informant. He had to keep track of how long the security would be occupied, to see whether or not the duration would fit within the planned estimate during the planning phase.

The heist was going relatively well; the vault had been infiltrated and security had been bypassed with iTrapped's skills, and they were halfway to finishing the extraction with Johnathan777.

What they didn't know, however, was that another hacker was within the radar, and he had his sights set towards a certain branch of Builder Brother's Pizza.

They were about to make their escape; all that had to be done was for iTrapped to inform Twister92 and LonelyTree to get into the vehicle via text message. But one would never step into the vehicle.

Twister92 looked up from where he had been conversing with a high-position lawyer from a prestigious law firm in the city, hearing people suddenly start clamoring and running around. The party, once filled with lively chatter, devolved into chaos. The ground shook, but it was unclear whether it was actually shaking or if it was just the pressure from the frantic footsteps.

He was getting confused. What happened? Twister92 checked his phone, but the systems were suddenly down. No message from iTrapped or anyone. They all looked around. The other attendees were clamoring and questioning where the security personnel were. Twister92 knew where the security was, but he couldn't blow his cover, so he did his best to pretend.

Maybe there had been an unexpected event that might have disrupted the plan briefly, but no matter. Twister92 can learn to adapt. As he moved with the crowd, he kept his phone on one hand. The crowd ran outside, thinking it was an earthquake of sorts, so they ran outside to the clear area.

But it wasn’t an earthquake, far from it actually, though it might as well be.

iTrapped ran across the crowds, weaving through the throng of people. He could've sworn he might have tangled legs briefly with one stranger, but he couldn't care less. The rumbling of the ground only fueled his agitation, but he didn't care. Faintly, he could hear the voice of his friends behind him. Johnathan777, Ellernate, Caleb244. All of them were lost among the sea of voices and faces.

He only had one person in mind–

LonelyTree.

The ground shook with the force of the crumbling buildings as 007n7’s finger pressed the [unanchor] command in the c00lgui, and he snickered when he saw the Robloxians below, scrambling and trying to steer clear from the crumbling infrastructure, doing their best to not get crushed by debris.

There you are. 007n7 brightened when he caught a glimpse of the golden boy–Elliot Builder.

He lowered himself on top of some pile of rubble, and he felt his mouth twitch into a smile when he was within the line of Elliot's scathing glare. He enjoyed this little game that they played, and he doesn't care if he dragged in Elliot as an unwilling participant. Not when he had too much fun.

Setting fire to the pizza place, he shot a snarky comment towards the son of Mr. Builder.

iTrapped managed to push through the crowd, eventually reaching Twister92. Frantic and worried, he gripped his friend's shoulders tightly, shaking him, asking where LonelyTree might be. Everything was in a state of discord, and he felt a grip on his shoulder.

He glanced back, seeing Ellernate and Johnathan777, but he ignored them to hound Twister92 again, letting out a groan of frustration when his worries weren’t satisfied. His head whipped around with a force that would've made a lesser man dizzy, and he was about to proceed deeper, when he was stopped by the security personnel, who had decided to secure the area and keep the citizens organized in the area.

iTrapped tried to push past them, but he was pulled back by his friends, who had started to drag him towards their supposed getaway. And though the heist was the last thing on his mind, he was outnumbered. They tried to talk to him, tell him that LonelyTree was fine, but he couldn't even hear them.

He was holed up in the back, phone gripped in his hands. Repeatedly, he tried to call LonelyTree's number.

No response.

He tried again. and again, and again. And all he received was the same result. Nothing.

As soon as the commotion had calmed down, one of the admins had arrived to resolve the situation, but the culprit was long gone. Onlookers gathered around, pitying expressions on their faces as they watched the smoldering remains of the pizza place and the ruins of the nearby buildings. A few had been injured from the collapse, but they had been immediately tended to. A few who had passed by spread through word of mouth that Stickmasterluke himself had gone down to deal with the problem, placing everyone at ease. With the admin's abilities, the situation would be easily rectified.

But that was far from iTrapped's mind. Him and his friends asked and searched until sunset for LonelyTree's whereabouts, but it was like he had disappeared into thin air. Twister92 even approached Stickmasterluke himself just to placate iTrapped, but no luck. Stickmasterluke did reassure them that he would do anything in his power to search for LonelyTree.

But it has been years since his disappearance, and he is yet to be found.

It was like the skies had gone darker since that day. And like the clouds accumulating before a storm, it was only a matter of time before the first raindrops fell.

There is something wrong with iTrapped.

Everyone noticed how he seemed to be keeping to himself more often. Not just his friends, but his team back in BrickPlanet as well. Especially his co-owner.

Funds would suddenly be decreased. Each payroll would be delayed significantly, and the employees were starting to call the management into question. He did not want to push too much at first, having overheard some muffled arguments between the owner and his friends, but it has gone on for too long, and he had a whole team to look after.

It had been one question, then two, then countless. And yet he never received a clear answer from iTrapped, who might as well just be a ghost. They rarely see him around. They rarely see the others around, too, except on times when iTrapped himself invites them over to sometimes work on BrickPlanet with him.

The last they’ve heard from iTrapped is that he was developing BrickPlanet's website and conversing with some collaborators.

The number of heists decreased. Ellernate was doing his own thing in the shadows, and so was Caleb244. Twister92 and Johnathan777 were working together on a project. It seemed like things would be relatively settled between the group.

The team of BrickPlanet found out that some of the reports on the funding were either incorrect or lacking important details. And with iTrapped's evasiveness, they were left to come to their own conclusions.

So fell the second domino.

The beginning of the end would start on a certain day in May. It would be their final heist as a group.

They agreed that Ellernate, Caleb244, and Johnathan777 would be the group to infiltrate the vault of the museum, with iTrapped keeping a lookout, and Twister92 as their getaway. It was a simple plan: get in and get out. All necessary preparations had been done.

But what they didn’t take into account was that earlier, they had passed through the hall of artifacts to get to the vault. iTrapped, having remained outside, was beckoned by the legendary sword: the Darkheart.

When the sword sensed the mortal pass in front of it, it knew that its freedom was imminent. It could sense the power that the mortal held; the cold frost emanating from its crown, and the greed the mortal held.

Sending its minimal influence, it plagued the mortal’s mind with whispers, promising power, pulling on the mortal’s deepest wish. It knew it had won when it sensed the cold presence approaching its confines, when the glass was broken, and a curious hand settled on its hilt.

iTrapped had been careless.

He had failed to watch their back.

Ellernate and Caleb244 turned to look at the group who had come to apprehend them, led by the admin, Doombringer. Ellernate stepped in front of Caleb244 and summoned his Illumina, while Caleb244 summoned his GUI, appearing as a black, floating panel outlined with blue below his fingertips.

Caleb244 had accessed the admin panel and connected it to his GUI earlier through exploiting a bug that Ellernate and iTrapped had discovered, allowing him to hijack an admin site. Johnathan777, who had been further inside the vault, managed to hide and not be seen, but he knew he couldn’t hide forever. Twister92 had heard the commotion and immediately went in through their designated route to pull Johnathan777 outside.

iTrapped was just in the hall beside the confrontation, the Darkheart held within his grip, as he ducked behind a wall. He knew the mission was compromised, but somehow, he felt restless at the thought of leaving behind what could have been theirs.

Taking a deep breath and with the advantage of the admin’s focus being on Ellernate and Caleb244, iTrapped ran into the vault, with the confrontation as a cover, and snatched up what they had gathered, then sprinted out, using the escape route. Briefly, his eyes met Ellernate’s through the shadow of his Dominus, and he watched as the expression quickly changed from determined to betrayed, and enraged. But iTrapped didn’t stop until he had handed off his catch to Twister92.

He looked back amidst Johnathan777 and Twister92 shaking him, demanding him for answers, and watched as Ellernate and Caleb244 were taken away, no doubt to be locked up in the Banlands for their crimes.

The drive back was tense and silent.

Ever since that day, it was like their world had been shaken. Johnathan777 had been spotted by one of Doombringer’s operatives and was being searched for. However, iTrapped was not mentioned in the incident at all. Twister92 and Johnathan777 blamed iTrapped for what happened, especially when they found the Darkheart in his possession. It had been his fault, they said. If only he kept watch, if only he stood his ground with Ellernate and Caleb244, if only he hadn’t been greedy.

The guilt weighed heavy on his chest, but he also felt defensive. He lashed out and they argued, the negative emotions swirling within him, a steady downpour turned into a storm with the Darkheart’s influence. The more he wielded the accursed sword, the wider the pit of greed grew within him. For nobody but Telamon and his creations had been able to successfully wield the Darkheart. In the hands of inexperienced mortals, the Darkheart’s influence would seep in and burrow deep, making a home within their psyche.

It first started to show in his emotions. The arguing grew, until they would go for long periods of time without talking to each other. They were hiding out within Twister92’s residence, with Johnathan777 still being looked for. Every day, iTrapped is reminded of his betrayal whenever his gaze would drift his reflection on the dark blade.

He had been having nightmares recently, pertaining to various subjects. Sometimes, it would be LonelyTree. Sometimes, it would be Ellernate and Caleb. Other times, it would be Johnathan777 and Twister92. In some cases, it would be all of them. And, quite rarely, it would even be himself.

Then, wielding the Darkheart would begin to have… physical effects.

Black veins started to spread across his body, starting from his fingertips. Day by day, it crept and crept, until he had to start wearing more layers to cover himself with. If Johnathan777 and Twister92 noticed that his wardrobe had changed, they could not care enough to ask.

Three years would be a long time of him succumbing to the Darkheart. Time can take a heavy toll, they say.

Finally, an opportunity for redemption came in the form of Chance, a person he had passed before, the only son of a wealthy couple. But not just any wealthy couple; Chance’s parents had ties to the admins themselves, which is why they were granted a key to the Banlands. That caught iTrapped’s attention.

After a long period of barely tolerating each other, iTrapped finally managed to talk once again to Johnathan777 and Twister92. Though it was clear that they were not quite happy with how iTrapped would be the one to get closer to Chance. Johnathan777 wanted to come himself, but he would be easily recognized. And Twister92 couldn’t as well, being their cover. If Twister92 deviated from his routine, there would be questions asked from very particular individuals, which could lead to suspicion and them getting found out.

Reluctant as iTrapped may be, he had no choice. It was all his fault, anyway.

So he would get close to Chance.

And if he wanted to take the key to the vault of Chance’s parents as a souvenir, well, at least he could give it to Ellernate and Caleb244 as an apology gift.

If they even decide to forgive him.