Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Two Time lay in Azure’s garden, his words replaying in their mind over and over like a broken record. Two Time wanted to believe they wouldn’t be sad about Azure’s sacrifice—that the sacrifice hadn’t gone to waste. Surely, the church wouldn’t… couldn’t… keep a lie like that for so long. Right?

They snapped out of their thoughts when the faint patter of rain brushed against their skin. The droplets fell lightly, soaking the soil, making the flowers sway with soft, delicate movements. Slowly, Two Time pushed themselves up from the ground, watching as each flower shimmered under the rain. All of them were healthy, vibrant—flourishing even after the sacrifice.

That was because of them.

Ever since that day, Two Time had tended the garden with careful hands. They couldn’t bear to let it wither, not when it had been Azure’s pride and hard work. The thought of Azure coming back to find everything alive and well—of him being proud of them—made Two Time’s face heat with a soft blush of embarrassment.

They shouldn’t be thinking like this.

But the thought lingered anyway, like a whisper: Azure smiling at them, praising them for keeping his work alive, telling them he was proud…

“Two Time, Azure is clearly tricking you. He isn’t a good role model—he’s affecting your relationship with the Spawn. Don’t you see how caught up you’ve become in his silly pretend stories? You’ve been messing up lines from the Book of Spawn more and more because of him. He’s not good for you, Two Time. He’s just trying to pull you farther from the Spawn, farther from me. Is that really what you want? To disappoint the deity who gave you life?”

Two Time’s stomach twisted. Their small flicker of warmth and longing curdled into shame, then into hatred. Amarah was right. They shouldn’t be thinking, shouldn’t be feeling this way about that… that deceiving prick. Azure had convinced them to skip church too many times, to put false joy above their duty.

Their deity must have been so disappointed in them.

Maybe Azure’s sacrifice was the only reason they’d been forgiven at all—maybe it was the only thing keeping them from complete ruin.

The sudden toll of church bells cut through the rain, pulling Two Time back to the present. Was it that time already? No matter. They brushed themselves off and began the walk to the church. Inside, the crowd gathered quickly, voices low and reverent. Two Time’s eyes scanned the rows until they landed on Amarah, seated neatly among the benches.

A small, cautious smile crossed Two Time’s face as they slipped into the space beside their mentor. It was tradition to sit with one’s mentor during sermons, to avoid the temptation of whispering with friends.

Since the church still buzzed with people filing in, Two Time leaned toward Amarah and whispered softly, “Good afternoon, Amarah. We thank the Spawn for this wonderful weather, correct?”

Amarah tilted their head, voice calm and low. “Good afternoon to you as well, Two Time. Yes, we are blessed with this rain. Congratulations on your second life, by the way. I almost doubted you would keep your word—but the Spawn is never wrong in its choices.”

The words settled heavy in Two Time’s chest. Yes, after killing Azure, they had been given their second life. But… why didn’t it feel right? Why wasn’t there joy in their heart, only emptiness? Why was the thought of it satisfying, but not the reality?

Why? Why, why, why, why—why couldn’t they feel whole?

Amarah’s fingers snapped sharply in front of their face, yanking Two Time from their spiraling thoughts. “Two Time. We will… talk later about this. For now, listen. The church has a special announcement today.”

Two Time’s chest tightened. Great. Now they were in trouble. They knew Amarah’s punishments well—harsh words, shame, reminders of their ungratefulness. They forced themselves to pay attention, though their mind still buzzed with what would come later.

The elder at the front cleared their throat.

“The Spawn has given us a vision. A prophecy. As mentors, it is our duty to guide our young ones into deeper devotion. The vision has told us to strengthen them—make them stealthier, smarter, faster, stronger—so they may serve our deity in new ways. Evil men and women have turned their backs on the Spawn, stealing what is sacred. It is now the role of the faithful to restore what has been stolen. Please the Spawn, and you will be blessed in return.”

Two Time’s ears perked up. Interesting. What could possibly go wrong with that?

–––

A week passed.

Turns out, everything could go wrong.

The training was brutal.

Two Time had been stealthy enough, yes. Running too—they had practice with that since childhood. Azure used to chase them through the garden, waving worms around like some silly prize, and Two Time would dart away squealing while Azure laughed. The memory made them smile for half a heartbeat—until it crumbled against the reality of his sacrifice.

Strength, though… that was their downfall.

Their body was too thin, too weak. Carrying heavy loads from point A to point B became their assigned punishment. Dirt bags, stone sacks, crates of supplies—all hauled across the grounds until their arms burned. Amarah would watch, lips curling in something like a smile.

“At least you’re still taking care of Azure’s garden,” Amarah would say softly as Two Time struggled past.

If only it was still just watering plants. If only it wasn’t backbreaking labor dressed up as devotion.

But the garden gave them space to think. Thoughts of Azure always crept in, of course. He used to show them books—strange books with colorful drawings of places called cities. Two Time wondered if those places were real, or just fabrications, like anime. Anime had been banned long ago after students were caught watching something so scandalous that even the elders had stepped in. Two Time didn’t know what they’d seen, only that it must have been bad if it earned such wrath. Azure used to gossip about it, though, whispering little stories to Two Time when no one else was around.

They used to believe him.

They used to believe so much.

And even now—no matter how much Amarah told them it was wrong—they couldn’t stop wishing it was Azure, not the elders, who nodded at them with approval when they grew stronger.

They weren’t over him. Not even close.

(^o^)

W

Chapter Text

(#1)

It had been a month since the training started, and Two Time finally had muscles.
Not huge ones, but enough that their arms flexed when they lifted.
They were… proud.

Every whimper.
Every bag of dirt carried.
Every swing of the heavy stones.

It had all shaped them into something new. They could feel it in their body — the ache in their arms, the tightness in their chest, the calluses on their hands. Every drop of sweat was proof.

Proof of obedience.
Proof of devotion.
Proof that the Spawn’s will ran through them.

And now… the Elderlys had begun giving them missions.
Missions directly from the Spawn itself.

Two Time blushed just thinking about it — imagining the glorious scenario in their head, whispering under their breath:

“Oh… thank you, Spawn, for everything you’ve done for me… f-for even wanting me to get back what was stolen from you~.”

This mission, though… this one was different.

They were told to kill someone.
A man. Russian accent, Russian hat. Black-and-white formal clothes. That was all they were given.

But it didn’t matter.
Two Time wouldn’t fail the Elderlys.
They wouldn’t fail the Spawn.

They grabbed their dagger — dull but deadly — and their old rusty camera, used to take “proof” photos once the job was done. Shoving them into their pockets, they left the forest silently, heading toward the location.

The city felt… unreal.

Two Time walked quietly through the streets, clutching their pocket, their boots tapping against pavement they weren’t used to. Outside the church, the world felt too big, too loud.

Cities were real.

Azure once showed them books about places like this. Streets full of lights, towers of glass, cars roaring down crowded roads. Two Time thought it was all fake. Lies. But… Azure was right.

Funny, though. The church had barely any books on the “outside world.” Maybe on purpose.

They didn’t like the brightness. The chaos. Or maybe it just felt that way because the forest was always dark, quiet, and controlled.

Two Time’s thoughts shattered when they spotted their prey.

A pale man lay on the ground, beaten badly. His black hat had two small dice and a single playing card tucked into it, giving style to something plain. Despite his injuries, he still wore thick, dark shades. Odd.

But no matter.

Two Time crouched low, silent as a shadow, gripping the dagger in both hands. They crept close… close enough to hear him breathe…

And then—

SLICE!

The blade cut through, and the man collapsed instantly.

Two Time pulled out their camera, snapping a picture of the body before tucking it away.

Then they froze.

“I… l-love… you… Two Time…”

Their blood turned cold.

Azure’s voice. Azure’s smile. That day. That moment.
The betrayal.
The loss.
The memories screamed through their head, deafening, burning, breaking them apart—

No, no, not now, not now, not now, NOT NOW—

“Hey, uh… buddy? You okay..?”

Two Time blinked hard, reality crashing back.

The stylish man was still alive. Grinning half-heartedly, half in pain, half worried. He shouldn’t have stayed. He should’ve run.

But too late now.

Two Time lunged forward, grabbing him by the collar and shoving the dagger to his throat—

Footsteps.

Oh, Spawn, have mercy.

Two Time dragged the man — “Chance,” judging from the muffled shouts he made earlier — behind a dumpster, slapping a hand over his mouth, holding the dagger steady.

A figure approached, their shadow cutting through the alley.

“Shit… Chance already…? Dead? Damn it. When I find him, he’ll wish he didn’t defend himself…
Wait. No. There’s no way he could’ve done this alone…
And when the hell did that bastard get a knife to make that wound!?”

He knew.

He knew there was someone else.

The figure stepped closer. Closer. Right toward them.

Two Time shoved Chance into him with all their strength.

Chance yelped as he crashed into the figure, buying Two Time a split second to escape. They bolted for the street—

But a hand clamped around their ankle, iron-tight.

They hit the ground hard, clawing for their dagger, but—

Gone.

The dagger was still with Chance.

“Chance! Stab him!” Two Time hissed, panic in their voice.

Chance groaned, dazed and dizzy, but his hand fumbled down, finding the dagger under him. With a strained growl, he drove the blade into the figure’s chest.

“I wish you the best of luck with Mafioso!” Chance wheezed before bolting down the street, limping into the night.

Two Time stared after him, furious.

“I just saved your life, and that’s all you—?!”

No time to complain.

The wound wasn’t deep. The man — Mafioso, probably — yanked the dagger out, tossing it aside and unsheathing his sword.

A sword.

“...oh my goodness...”

Two Time scrambled up, snatching their dagger and ducking just in time as the blade whooshed past their head. Sparks flew as dagger clashed with steel, their arms trembling from the force.

They tried to twist the blade away, using the dagger to parry — but it backfired. Both weapons went flying, leaving them empty-handed.

Mafioso smirked.

“Looks like someone’s not a fighter, eh, mate~?”

Two Time barely dodged his next swing, but the next strike landed on their arm, sending pain shooting to their elbow. They gasped, stumbling back, reaching desperately for their dagger—

Too late.

Mafioso slammed a fist into the back of their head, slamming them against the wall, pinning them there. His expression was… strange.

Hatred? No.
Obsession.

“So… we’ve got a smart little cookie, huh? What’s your mafia called? Talk.”

Two Time blinked rapidly, confused, scared, shaking.

“L-look, I’m not in a… a mafia, or whatever this is! I-I’m doing this… to get back what was stolen from the Spawn!”

Mafioso raised an eyebrow.

He knew when someone lied. This wasn’t a lie.

Brainwashed.
They were brainwashed.

And somehow, that amused him.

He grinned, leaning in—

Two Time kneed him in the groin, snatched their dagger, and bolted out of the alley.

Mafioso staggered forward, swearing under his breath, ready to chase—

But Two Time was fast.

Way too fast for someone who claimed not to be a fighter.

He smirked to himself, watching them vanish.

“…Interesting.”

Chance would bleed out eventually. He’d deal with him later.

But this… “Spawn-believer?”
This was going to be a problem.

---
(^.^)

WH

Chapter Text

(#2)

It had been a month since the training began, and Two Time’s body had changed.
Not hulking, not monstrous—but stronger. Defined muscles shaped their arms and shoulders, and when they flexed, there was power there now, carved by exhaustion and pain. Every whimper, every stone lifted, every sleepless night under the harsh training had molded them into something new.

They were proud of it.
Proud… because every drop of sweat was proof.
Proof of obedience.
Proof of devotion.
Proof that the Spawn’s will ran through their veins.

And today, the elderlys rewarded them.

Two Time’s heart pounded as they held the mission letter between trembling fingers. It wasn’t just training anymore—the Spawn itself had chosen them. They were no longer just a follower. They were a vessel.

“Go forth, purify the wicked, return what was stolen.”

Their lips curled into the faintest smile. The thought of the Spawn calling upon them, personally, made their chest ache in strange, overwhelming warmth. As they packed their dagger and the old, rusty camera used to capture “proof” for the elderlys, they whispered softly under their breath:

“Oh… thank you, Spawn… for wanting me to do this… for trusting me with your will…”

---

The target was simple: a man in a Russian hat, a heavy accent, and formal black-and-white clothes. He had stolen from the elderlys—or rather, “stolen from the Spawn.” That was all Two Time needed to know.

The city streets were loud and unfamiliar, nothing like the quiet, damp stillness of the church’s forest. The lights here burned brighter than their comfort allowed. The air smelled strange—smoke, oil, life. They didn’t like it. It was… overwhelming.

They spotted him fast.

The Russian hat man stood hunched over a stylish figure on the ground, fists bloody, knuckles raw. The beaten man wore a black cap decorated with two small dice and a card tucked into the brim, somehow managing to keep his thick black shades on despite the damage.

Two Time didn’t hesitate.
This was the will of the Spawn.
This was purification.

Their breathing slowed, just like they were trained to do. Fingers tightened around the dagger’s leather grip, palms slick with anticipation. Their heart drummed hard, but steady.

One step. Two. A shift of weight.
Two Time lowered their center of gravity, each muscle coiled tight, dagger angled perfectly for the strike.

The Russian hat man raised his fist again—ready to smash it into the stranger’s jaw. That’s when Two Time moved.

They lunged forward, silent as a shadow, driving the dagger clean between his ribs.

SCHK—!

The man froze, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat, breath hitching as his body jerked violently. Blood sprayed across Two Time’s hand, warm and sticky, but they didn’t flinch. They twisted the dagger upward, hitting deeper, tearing through muscle and bone.

The Russian hat man dropped to his knees, choking on his breath, clawing weakly at Two Time’s sleeve—but the life drained from his eyes within seconds.

He collapsed with a thud.

Two Time stood over him, chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths, just like they practiced. They yanked the dagger free, wiped it clean on the dead man’s coat, and pulled out the rusty camera to snap a photo for the elderlys.

It was done. Purification complete.

But before they could leave, a broken voice rasped behind them:

“I… l… love… you… Two Time…”

Two Time froze.

Their breath caught. Their body went rigid.

Suddenly they weren’t here anymore. They were back there—Azure’s soft smile, the gentle weight of his gaze, his love, and then—
Then the betrayal.
Then the blood.

Their hands trembled violently. “No no no no no—n-not now, please not now—”

“Hey… buddy, you okay?”

Two Time blinked, snapping back into the present.
The stylish man—battered and bruised, sunglasses cracked—was staring at them, one hand raised hesitantly. A worried half-grin twisted on his face, though his voice wavered.

He was alive.
Alive… because Two Time killed his attacker.

They should’ve walked away. Should’ve left him. But before Two Time could react—

Footsteps.

Slow. Heavy. Confident.

A man’s voice, sharp and laced with irritation, cut through the alley:

“Tch… that idiot…down already? Damn it, Chance… when I find you, you’ll wish you hadn’t fought back.”

Two Time’s breath hitched.
Chance.
So that was his name.

They ducked behind a dumpster, dragging Chance silently with them and clamping a hand over his mouth. They pressed the dagger against his lips, signaling him to stay silent.

The footsteps drew closer.

“No way he’s dead that easily. Where the hell’s the knife wound from?!”

The man—Mafioso—stopped just feet away, scanning the alley. The tension pressed into Two Time’s skull, hot and suffocating.

Mafioso’s boots crunched against the wet pavement, blood still dripping from the Russian hat man’s body as his shadow loomed closer.

Two Time’s breathing quickened. Panic buzzed under their skin. If Mafioso spotted them, this wouldn’t end clean.

Desperate, they shoved Chance forward—straight into Mafioso.

“Wha—HEY!” Chance yelped, crashing into him. Mafioso stumbled but didn’t fall. He recovered with inhuman speed, spinning to grab Chance by the throat and slam him against the wall.

Chance gagged, kicking wildly, clawing at Mafioso’s wrist.

Two Time acted on instinct. They dashed forward, dagger raised high, aiming straight for Mafioso’s ribs—

But Mafioso caught their wrist mid-swing.

His grip was iron, fingers digging into their skin until Two Time hissed in pain. With his free hand, he drove his elbow into their stomach, forcing the air from their lungs in a sharp gasp.

“Fast little rat,” Mafioso snarled, yanking them closer. “But sloppy.”

Two Time bit down hard on his hand and twisted violently, breaking free. They slashed upward, cutting across Mafioso’s shoulder, spraying blood across the alley.

“Argh—shit!” Mafioso roared, staggering back slightly, but his smirk didn’t fade.

Chance took the opportunity to grab the fallen dagger and, with surprising precision, plunged it into Mafioso’s other shoulder.

Mafioso shoved him away with brute strength, growling low. Blood stained his shirt, dripping down his arms, but his grin widened dangerously.

“You little bastards…”

Chance didn’t wait—he grabbed Two Time’s arm, shoving the dagger back into their hand.

“I wish you the best of luck with Mafioso, stranger!”

Then he bolted, limping down the alley without a backward glance.

Two Time gritted their teeth, holding the dagger tight as Mafioso straightened, blood streaming but eyes sharp and predatory.

“Cute trick,” he rasped. “Looks like I’ve found myself a little killer. Tell me… what’s your mafia called?”

“M-my… mafia?” Two Time stammered, breath ragged. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about… I do this for the Spawn! To… to purify the wicked and—”

Mafioso chuckled darkly, low and mocking.

“Brainwashed little thing, aren’t you?”

Before Two Time could respond, Mafioso lunged again. He slammed them into the wall so hard it rattled their skull, dagger nearly knocked from their grip.

Panic burned through their chest. The Spawn’s voice screamed in their head, urging them not to fail. They kicked upward, striking Mafioso hard where it hurt.

He grunted, releasing them just enough for Two Time to twist free, grab their dagger, and sprint into the neon-lit chaos of the city streets.

Behind them, Mafioso clutched his wound, his smirk curling wider despite the blood.

“Heh… interesting. Real interesting.”

—

This wasn’t over.

(^_^)

WH

Chapter Text

Two Time barely made it out from that experience, stumbling through the forest with ragged breaths. Their lungs burned, their legs screamed, and their sight was nothing but haze. Branches snagged at their cloak as if the forest itself wanted to drag them down. The Spawn’s voice was louder than their own thoughts, a storm of pleased whispers tangled with cruel insults.

They bumped into trees, tripped over roots, fighting the pull of unconsciousness.

They didn’t know how long they had been running. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. All they knew was that if they stopped, Mafioso would catch them—and finish the job.

Just get away, my nightshade.

The voice slithered through their skull. It wasn’t the Spawn’s rasp, it wasn’t their own thoughts—was it Azure? The headache that followed made them wince, clutching their temple. Were they being guided? Or mocked?

The Spawn hissed for them to turn, to fight, to spill Mafioso’s blood in its name. But Azure’s memory whispered: keep running.

For once, Two Time listened to Azure.

“Two Time? Is that you?”

The voice cut through the rain. It sounded like Amarah—steady, familiar—but their spinning head twisted it, warped it. For a moment it was Mafioso’s voice instead, taunting. Two Time gasped, ran faster, panic boiling over.

Amarah caught sight of them through the trees. His stomach turned—Two Time never ran from him. Something was very wrong.

Before they could make it to safety, Two Time’s foot caught on a root. They stumbled, crashed chest-first into a tree. The impact knocked the wind from their lungs, and before they could recover, a heavy branch snapped overhead.

It came down hard against their skull. Darkness swallowed them whole.

---

When they awoke, they whimpered, pain flaring sharp and hot at the side of their head.

“Don’t move too much.”

Amarah’s hand pressed firmly to their shoulder, pushing them back against the bedding. His eyes narrowed.

“How long… was I out?”

“Two full days.”

Two Time blinked, staring in disbelief. Then embarrassment hit them like another branch. “Oh… I don’t remember what happened. My dearest apologies for keeping you worried.” Their voice was weak, apologetic, their hands twisting at the blanket.

Amarah crossed his arms. His expression was unreadable—somewhere between irritated and calculating. “You were hallucinating. I’ve never seen you so scared. You still finished the job, though. The proof’s on the camera. Care to explain?” His eyebrow twitched as he waited.

Two Time swallowed. “…Well, embarrassingly enough, after I killed the tainted one, someone called Mafioso showed up. He almost killed me. He even asked if I was in a mafia.” They spat the word with confusion and distaste. “When I explained I was working for the Spawn, he called me brainwashed and sick in the head!”

They huffed, fists balling, more frustrated than afraid now. “But luckily, the Spawn protected me. It is good and forgiving to its people. ♥♥”

Amarah’s jaw clenched. He didn’t even try to mask the disgust flashing across his face—but beneath it was something else. Thrill. Opportunity.

Two Time caught the look, panic flashing across their eyes. They quickly turned their head away, stammering out another apology, cheeks burning.

Finally, Amarah spoke. “I’ll speak to the elderlys about him. For now, help the others prepare for the party. They want to reward everyone for retrieving so many things that were stolen from the Spawn.”

Two Time nodded eagerly. Anything to prove themselves useful.

Before leaving, Amarah paused at the door. His voice was sharp. “Oh—and you have one more mission to do before the week is over.”

-------

Later, cloaked and armed again, Two Time helped move crates, hang decorations, and herd younger members into their places for the party. But curiosity gnawed at them. When they spotted Amarah speaking with one of the elderlys, they slipped into the shadows, listening like they used to with Azure during olds days.

At first, it was boring—party logistics. But then Mafioso’s name surfaced. The elder’s tone changed immediately.

“…Losing another one.”

Two Time leaned closer, holding their breath.

SNAP.

The twig beneath their boot cracked like a gunshot. Their body froze.

“Whoever you are,” Amarah said coldly, “come out. Don’t make your punishment worse than it already will be.”

Whimpering, Two Time emerged, hands raised, spilling apologies like prayers.

Amarah’s glare sharpened, but the elderly member stepped forward, all sweet smiles. “Two Time! Perfect timing. Have you finished helping with the party?”

“Yes,” they answered softly.

“Good. Then I have your next assignment.” Her smile never faltered, but her eyes were sharp as glass. “The target is named 007n7. They’ve stolen something very dear to the Spawn—it is a crime.”

She described them: a man with a burger hat decorated by a tiny yellow demon on top. Then she handed over a folded slip of paper, eyes gleaming. “Make sure you’re back before 3 a.m. That’s when the party begins.”

Two Time bowed their head, slipping away.

---

The apartment was easy to find. 5924. Two Time picked the lock with a bobby pin, a trick left over from their childhood days of stealing pens—back before Amarah punished the habit out of them.

Inside, 007n7’s voice carried through the room. “Please, I just need more time—”

The phone clattered to the floor as Two Time lunged, dagger gleaming. They struck fast, stabbing his back, shoving him down.

But before the killing blow could land, a strange rectangular device—black with jagged red lines—materialized in the air, knocking the dagger from their grip. Energy surged through 007n7’s body, sealing the wound.

His eyes narrowed, and he grabbed for the dagger.

Two Time grinned. This was fun.

They drove their knee into his stomach, reclaiming the blade and smashing the device against the wall until sparks hissed and the pieces shattered.

A small, delighted laugh slipped from them as they pressed the dagger to his throat.

That’s when a child’s voice rang out.

“What are you doing to my dad?!”

Two Time’s grin twisted into something wide, feral, teeth bared. “Ohhh, you have a child?”

The boy—Coolkid—froze in the doorway.

His father tried to shout for him to run, but Two Time clamped a hand over his mouth, dagger digging into his chest.

“Do you and your father want to repent for your sins to the Spawn?”

“…Um. Yes?” Coolkid whimpered.

Two Time giggled, voice high and sing-song. “Gosh, I’m glad! The Spawn always forgives its people!!!”

With a slow, deliberate motion, they licked the blood from their dagger. “Now, be a good little sinner and make a clone.”

007n7 obeyed, trembling. When the duplicate stood before them, Two Time’s eyes lit up. They stabbed it. Once. Twice. A dozen times. Twenty. Each thrust harder, faster, until the clone collapsed in a shredded heap.

Snap. The camera flashed.

007n7 wondered if two time got off from that, taking pictures of dead people..what if they selled these type of pho-

“It’s just for evidence, silly!” Two Time beamed, waving the bloodied dagger. “You don’t want the Spawn to curse you with gray hair early, with all that stress, do you?”

Before leaving the real 007n7 alive, they leaned close, whispering in his ear. “Steal from the Spawn again, and I won’t be so generous. I’m only sparing you for your kid’s sake.”

The door shut behind them with a cheerful hum.

Inside, 007n7 called out to Coolkid who quickly ran into his father’s arms, sobbing. “Did you stop the bad guy?”

007n7 smiled weakly, clutching him tight. “…Yes. I used the clone to punch them into the ocean.” he lied to not worry him.

Coolkid gasped in awe. “Yay! I knew you could do it, Dad!”

He chuckled softly, hiding his trembling. “Come on. Let’s make your favorite dinner.”

---

Two Time wandered the streets, fingering the strange green bills they’d been given. Why hadn’t they finished the job? Maybe the thought of leaving Coolkid alone was too familiar.

Memories stirred. Their parents abandoning them at four years old. Amarah finding them, explaining their parents left because of their “schizophrenia.” But it wasn’t illness, no—it was the Spawn’s blessing. A gift.

Blessed.
Truly blessed. ♥

Their steps stopped at a neon-lit building: Barngo. They stared at the glowing sign, confused.

“ID, please,” the bouncer grunted.

“What is an ID?” Two Time almost asked—until a familiar voice called out.

“Oh, don’t worry—they’re with me.”

Chance grinned, pulling them inside. “Didn’t think I’d see you again, cloak man!”

Two Time blinked. “…Um. Same. What time is it?”

“Antisocial, huh? It’s 8:30. Got somewhere to be?” Chance laughed at his own joke and dragged them to a booth near a man with blond braids and a golden crown.

Two Time pointed at the drinks. “What are those?”

“You won’t know unless you try ’em~.”

---

By 1, their cloak had slipped, their undershirt clinging to their frame. Chance’s eyes widened as realization hit—Two Time wasn’t a man. Flustered, he quickly fixed their cloak, earning a giggle from the drunken two time (afab Two Time mentioned)

They had Ten dollars left. Heavily drunk. Laughing at jokes they barely understood.

By the time Chance guided them outside, Two Time was swaying, cheeks flushed.

“Where do you live? I’ll take you there.”

“Hehehe hic I live… ummm… hic in the forest! hic whereee… the church issss! hic”

Chance froze. His smile faded. A cult. Great. Just his luck.

“Two birds with one stone, huh?” a voice drawled behind him.

Chance stiffened. “Ah, shit.”

Two Time beamed, staggering toward the figure.

“Heyyy Mafioosooo hic comeee to myyy placeee! hic There’s a partyyy! hic hehehe!”

…

Cliffhanger muhahqga

WHA

Chapter Text

I dont know what to write for chapter 4-5 idk (i think i wrote 4?) and I dont want this story to be discontinued so...please give me ideas in the chat! I'll be happy to read them all and may use some later in the future chapters !
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:3