Chapter Text
[Streets of Robloxia]
It was a rainy night in the city of Robloxia, the kind where the neon lights smeared across slick pavements like forgotten dreams. A certain yellow Robloxian trudged down the slowly emptying streets, his fedora tilted low against the drizzle. Armless Detective—legally known as Michael "Armless" D. Tective—had just wrapped his last case for the month. Exhaustion tugged at his bones, but a quiet satisfaction bloomed in his chest. Shining a light on the truth? That was worth every ache.
As Michael walked, his shoes splashed through shallow puddles, the rhythmic patter mingling with the distant hum of traffic. His mind wandered to the whirlwind of his career: starting with petty crimes like misplaced hotel keys, escalating to murder mysteries and foiled robberies. It had been a wild year—not the worst (not yet), but far from the best. He zoned out, lost in the rhythm of the rain, until the familiar silhouette of his apartment building loomed ahead.
He approached the elevator, extending his Gadget3000's grabber arm to press the button for the third floor. The doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, and the mechanical gears hummed to life, filling the cramped box with tiny elevator music. Michael hummed along absentmindedly, tapping his foot until a cheerful ding announced his arrival. Stepping out, he continued the tune under his breath as he made his way to his door. The entrance had been modified for him—a facial scan instead of keys, courtesy of his grateful chief.
The scanner beeped approval, and the door hissed open. Michael stepped inside, a small, comforted smile tugging at his lips. His apartment was spacious for one: a cozy bedroom, living room, kitchen, bathroom, and balcony. The color scheme—cream white walls accented with pale yellows, reds, and blues in the decor—felt like a warm embrace after the chill outside.
"Ah, finally home! Thank god, no more assignments," Michael sighed, using his grabber arm to hang his fedora and jacket on the coat rack. He changed into a simple white t-shirt and navy blue shorts, neatly placing his shoes by the door. Sinking into the couch, he let the soft cushions cradle his sore back, releasing another weary exhale. With the remote in his gadget's grasp, he scrolled through movies—tomorrow was his day off, after all. He settled on the newest one: Flywheel Trap, a boy-love story about an ordinary guy pursued by a yandere stalker.
He didn't pay much attention at first, too focused on his dinner: a hearty bowl of baby potatoes mixed with corned beef, a side of corn, rice, and a cool glass of water. But then the screen cut to an intimate bedroom scene—the kind that made his cheeks flush. He nearly choked on a bite, fumbling to pause it and gulp down water. "Nope, not tonight," he muttered, switching to something light and cartoony instead.
After the awkward meal, Michael headed to the bathroom for his routine: brushing his teeth and a long, refreshing cold shower. The water cascaded over him like a reset button, washing away the day's grime. Toweling off, he slipped into his nightwear and collapsed onto his soft bed. Slumber hit him like a sucker punch; within minutes, he was out cold, unaware of the eyes watching from the shadows.
[Devon's POV]
His dear was truly beautiful. Just look at how my precious one sleeps— like a small deity, serene and untouchable. His sleeping form makes my heart pound a hundred times faster, a frantic rhythm I can't ignore. I remember it all too well.
I remember our first "date"—that cold interrogation room, one I'd visited before for lesser sins. I expected the usual: harsh lights, accusations, the grind of suspicion. But then... a deity turned his gaze on me. His warm voice, kind heart, and those beautiful brown eyes pierced through my apathy like sunlight through fog.
I couldn't help myself. I needed to see him again. This ritual of mine had stretched on for months now—slipping into the night, drawn to him like a moth to flame. I knew I shouldn't; if caught, my dear would be furious, and I'd lose him forever.
But oh, the agony of a single day without him clawed at my chest. It hurts to love him, yet it would shatter me to hate him. I craved his beauty, his grace, his everything.
I lingered outside his balcony longer than usual tonight, the rain pattering softly against the glass. The balcony's design was a flaw for him—a gift for me. Connected directly to his bedroom, it had a safety feature: a hidden button beneath the door handle. With a quiet click, it yielded.
I tiptoed inside, my breath shallow, heart thundering. There he was, face smooshed against the pillow, a trail of drool glistening—adorable, vulnerable. I wished for more: a brush of fingers against his skin, the warmth of his body next to mine. No. He's not a heavy sleeper; one wrong move, and it would all unravel. So I watched, mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest, the soft rhythm of his breathing. It tempted me to curl up beside him, to claim that sound as my lullaby.
I sighed, contenting myself with this stolen closeness. Maybe tomorrow he'd seek me out again, like in the old times. I'd wait eternally for that moment.
Quietly, I retreated to the balcony, glancing back one last time at Michael's peaceful form. Then I leaped into the night, vanishing before hitting the ground—teleporting back to my room, my sanctuary, far from any threats to my love.
A being like me doesn't often feel this way. So I'll cherish it... until I can't.
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Characters
Name: Michael “Armless” D. Tective
Alias: Armless Detective
Personality: Calm, Aloof, Observative, Kind, Helpful, Brave, Bold, Justice-Minded, Soft-hearted, Reliable.
Appearance: Yellow hair that often is tied into a small pony tail, yellow skin, brown eyes, 5’9ft tall, often wears fedoras and suit due to being on call for his job, lost both arms to a accident and uses gadget3000 that has a magnifying glass, grab arm, black light and magnet equip to it, wears casual clothes when not on duty (rarely).
Job: Detective
Interest/Likes: Hotdogs, Cats, Dogs, Praise, Solving Cases.
Dislikes: Difficult Cases, Annoying people.
Backstory:
Michael D. Tective is one of the detective in precinct (which is a detective agency) where he has a lot of co-workers. He’s the friendly, detective of the month employee of the agency. Beloved by his fellow co-workers, civilians and boss; he was known to solve any kinds of cases, from inconvenient cases like who messed up a hotel room to complex cases like who murdered Mr. Moolah in his mansion.
He had done it all, he had travelled (yes, travelled) different dimensions to solve cases for clients. Ever the reliable detective of the precinct, most co-workers ask him “how he keeps going?”, his answer? “Because justice and truth must come to light even if I don’t have arms!”. Never be fooled, his gadget3000 (which is attached to his fedora) helps him in his cases! A truly honorable detective.
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Name: Devon Kurumi
Alias: “Shadow” (Serial Killer)
Personality: Chill, Laid-back, Carefree, Sociopathic, Patient, Kind, Flirty (accidentally), Unfiltered Thinking, Talkative, Observant, Yandere, Obsessive, Possessive, Manipulative, Stubborn, Patient, Stealthy.
Appearance: Long black hair, Cyan Eyes, Petite body, Pale skin, Always has a smile, Tall (6’2ft). Wears black sleeveless turtleneck, light orange cardigan, blue jeans, black shoes; this is what he wears casually or sometimes where he kills. He wears his bartender uniform which is red vest, white polo shirt, black pants and black shoes; professional yet alluring?
Job: Bartender (Serial Killer on the side lines)
Interest/Likes: Making Guns, Making alcohol and non-alcoholic beverages, Cooking, Baking, Drinking Alcohol, Collecting Fedoras
Dislikes: Bullies, Bitter food, Nosy people.
Backstory:
Devon Kurumi was a “sociopath” labeled by his foster parents, his real parents and family died in a tragic boat accident where he was the only who survived the accident. Since then, he’d shown apathetic signs and often seen smiling to others even if it doesn’t match the occasion.
He met Armless Detective before the Detective became famous, he was a “suspect” from a killing near his work and he got interrogated by the detective. Mike wasn’t harsh or pushy, not even mean; he asked necessary questions and clarifications when needed. This (very) low bar causes Devon to take a liking to Mike. Soon, they became friends (one-sided) but Mike’s career took off, he became the famous detective everyone knows in their city.
This causes Mike to spend less and less time with Devon, which became one of the factor to push Devon to do something to get his (precious) detective back. Which in his way WA s to kill Mr. Moolah and make himself apart of the suspect list (despite having no prior connection to Mr. Moolah).
This… didn’t work out as someone was found to be the real killer, basically his plan wasn’t the one that killed Mr. Moolah, only speed up the murder plan of a certain someone.