NTWF Mafia: The Little Country Town

[Draco]

Drake sits in the chair next to the punch bowl, Glenda, Icon, his typewriter, and Terra. He continues to drink the punch, it slowly started to taste different, like the punch was returning to being just punch. He shrugged and went to pour more, but dropped the ladle onto the ground.

"Whoops..."

He bends down to get it, and when he goes to stand up forgets to step away from the table. Instead, he stands up hitting himself, and flipping the table, and punch, right over. The table flipped over, harming no one. The punch bowl however... Flew up into the air, and back down, onto a typewriter, Icon's typewriter. Punch pours everywhere, more punch then what should have been in the bowl in fact. The bowl must have been magic... After a minute the liquid stops.

"Whoops... Looks like the flyin punch fell on your typewriter. Sorry, it was a accident. You miiiight want to clean that up fast, or else it will get sticky."

[Avery]

It had been hours now since Porpington had locked them in the ballroom, and everyone was reaching their breaking point. Whatever the old chap had thought he'd accomplish by quarantining the town-- murderers and all-- well, he was a bit off the mark. True, people had started lobbing accusations around like it was an Olympic sport, but really, most of the anger was directed at Porpington himself.

When a few people starting building improvised gallows out of broken off table legs and salvaged mop handles, Porpington thought it was to execute a suspected mafia member. Then, once the hanging apparatus was completed, he noticed a group of people slowly creeping towards him, shoddy rope in hand, a gleam in their eyes.

Right now, Porpington was really wishing he could cough up that key. Let these caged beasts free, killers be darned. Oh-- what a fool he'd been! These people were savages! Brutes!

He'd hardly managed to splutter out an apology for holding the town hostage when the crowd finally reached him and began to drag the mayor towards the gallows. He fought them valiantly, but Porpington was a politico who preferred eating bonbons over working out, and he had little strength.

He was swinging dead on the gallows in the blink of an eye, and the townspeople were satisfied. Well, mostly anyway. They were still locked up in this godforsaken room, and Porpington still had that darn key in his stomach.

"We need to cut him down," announced once of the hanging-organizers. "And then cut the key out of his stomach."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and in an instant the dead Porpington was sprawled across the ruddy carpeting, his dead face still contorted in an expression of panic. The townspeople loomed over him, staring at the executed mayor, but no one offered to get the key. They might be vigilantes, but they weren't prepared to go around flaying open peoples' stomachs.

"Um," said the hanging-organizer, "anyone uh-- anyone volunteer?"

For a while no one said anything. Then, apprehensively, a girl in the crowd stepped forward.

"I'll do it," she said.

The citizens watched with squeamish yet rapt attention as she expertly cut open the mayor's stomach with a cake knife and then extricated the key. No hesitation. Miraculous precision.

"Well," she said. "Time to leave this joint, eh?"

But no one was moving towards the door except her, and just a few feet away from the crowd, she paused, suddenly uneasy.

"Um, guys?" she said.

"You were awful good with that knife," said a townsperson. "I mean, too good."

"What?"

"Yeah!" chorused a second. "What sort of person knows how to use a knife that well!?"

"A mafia member!" cried a third.

"Oh yes! I bet she's mafia!"

In her panic, the girl dropped the knife. Shot a nervous look at two anonymous faces in the crowd, as if begging them for help. But they turned from her. Afraid to reveal their own identities as the girl-- as Terra-- was dragged towards the gallows for the second hanging of the night.

Later, once Terra is dead and the rest of the townspeople have been let free from the ballroom, two very shocked individuals sit in a kitchen, taking small sips of black coffee.

"I... can't believe it," said one. "Two of us executed in rapid order? These townspeople... oh, they're getting wise!"

"Hush," said the second. "It was coincidence. These conspiracy theories won't do us any good. We just need to be careful, okay? Prudent."

The first sighs. "I suppose." Then, lifts up the coffee mug. "To Terra!"

"To Terra!" echoes the second.

They clink their glasses.

Terra was a mafia member.

She never had a chance, really-- a young girl born into the vicious field, her ancestors mafiosos, always exposed to the bloody profession. She'd moved to Netwaffle in an attempt to get away from the carnage, but fat lot of good that did her. It was too deeply rooted. In her DNA.

And really, on the outside, she was a nice girl: loved books, really did like the people in the town... but in the end, what she wanted came first. And if anyone got in her way, she'd deal with them, er, "appropriately".

She was incredibly skilled with weapons, always stashing at least a gun or knife on her person at all times. She was a master planner. A go-getter, the glue that held the mafia together. Unfortunately, sometimes Terra's smarts got the best of her; she thought she could do more than she could. That she was invincible, above suspicious.

And in the end, as we all know, this indeed was her downfall.

Good job, town! Just two mafiosos to go.

[Terra]

Terra’s body hung from the rope, broken and lifeless. She was gone. Truly gone from this world. No one knows whether it’s because they can’t or because they won’t, but people as terrible as she was don’t come back.

The townspeople had gotten rid of her once and for all.

* * *

HAHAHA JUST KIDDING

Terra floated out of her body and looked at it mournfully. It was strange, to look at her own broken body and know that she was never going to return to it. Not that she’d want to, in the state that it was in now, but...she was going to miss life.

She had to admit, though, that the knowledge of the existence of ghosts made it a lot easier to accept her death when the time finally came.

She looked down on all the townspeople, with an almost pitying expression on her face.

“You know, it’s a shame you all killed me. I would have been so great for all of you. Look at yourselves! You’re pathetic. Living all your boring little lives...you’d think a few murders would’ve spiced things up a bit. But no...you’re all just as ridiculous and self-absorbed as you’ve always been.”

She dived down. She wanted to look each of them in the eye, to force all of them to see what she really was. “I could’ve left ages ago. I had plenty of opportunities to leave this little town. But no...I stuck around. Do you know why? It was for all of you. I wanted to help you! I wanted to bring some glory to Netwaffle, a town that has languished in obscurity for all its days. I used to think that you deserved my help, that you were a sweet, quaint little town with all sorts of kind, wonderful people...but I eventually saw the reality. The people of this town are so selfish, but more than that...you’re so mundane. There’s no saving this town. So I decided to take advantage of it while I could. Can you blame me?”

Suddenly, she burst into a fit of hysterical giggles.

“Do you know what’s really sad?” she said. “How you actually killed two people yourselves. You saved us a lot of work! We were going to kill them ourselves, but now we don’t have to! Funny, isn’t it, how the supposedly innocent townspeople are nearly as bloodthirsty as the Mafia themselves.”

“It’s not like I enjoyed killing you,” said Terra, looking at each of the ghosts in turn. “But we did what had to be done, didn’t we?”

She paused.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” she said. “I don’t have to lie now. I love it. It’s so satisfying. It’s kind of unexplainable, I suppose...there’s a sense of power in the knowledge that you can take away someone’s life, I suppose...but then, why should I have to explain that to all of you? You all know. You just took mine.” She grinned.

“Oh, and by the way,” she said, “someone else is still going to die tomorrow. Count on it.”

[Gelquie]

Glenda--who was originally just upset at the loss of the punch bowl and its punch--mostly just watched as the hangings happened. She tried to do a few things here and there, but she somehow found herself at the back of the crowd again. After the hangings of the mayor and then Terra, Glenda found herself slightly more sober. Okay, perhaps not sober, but things seemed to be a little more serious now. She found herself thinking harder in spite of her intoxication.

Things only got weirder when Terra's ghost appeared and began to reprimand them all. Mundane? Her potions weren't mundane. Glenda knew that very well. Of course, she could've guessed, with the way that she reprimanded Glenda even before the deaths.

"See, just as I thought," Glenda said, a bit more quietly. "Dishparaging. Better killing those mafia, I told you."

Too much was going on. She couldn't stay on her feet forever. At least they got one mafia member down. She staggered back and fell into an empty seat, dropping her cup of whatever punch she had left in there. _{"Gotta sit down..."}

[Deleted]

As much as Ari had hated the mayor in that moment, she had never expected him to actually die. In fact, she was pretty shocked. She hadn't really protested, though. She'd just...well, blamed herself.

After the mayor was cut open, she turned away. She didn't need to see any more horror tonight.

Then Terra died. And, as it turned out, she was mafia. Ari didn't really care. She just wanted to leave this town.

"Hey...Peter," she said, finally calling Meowington by his first name, "do you want to take Mimi and get out of here?"

((Nova, correct me if I got his first name wrong.))

[Robyn]

Well, that all went rather quickly.

As soon as Icon had revealed their secret to Terra, Robyn decided it was time to finally let him know WHY she distrusted Terra so much, but everything had gone too fast for her to get any ink in edgewise. She could hear all the accusations flying around like candy at a parade, and she was beginning to get worried when several fingers were pointed at Icon. What WAS funny was the theory of Icon using the typewriter as a murder weapon. Robyn had a dark chuckle picturing that, but it was ephemeral since she knew she needed to tell Icon what she knew before he was the next one to be dragged to the gallows. (She quietly noted how morbidly impressive it was that the townsfolk could construct that while locked in the civic center.) He was in the middle of defending his honor as she typed.

Icon, buddy, I know you're busy, but you need to know the truth. I haven't been direct with this because I wanted you to have evidence to back up our claims, if you went to the townspeople with the information. I didn't want anyone to think you were just trying to throw them off your trail, not that you even have a trail, per se. That's why I wanted you to find the camera. She was the only person I'd caught on tape, and the only face that I KNOW was clear on the last picture I took-- it was Terra, Icon!!! You can't trust her, and you need to tell everyone before yyyyyyyyyyyyy

Robyn's mind jarred as her thoughts were ripped away from the paper. Something was wrong. Very wrong. A rising sense of panic began to fill her, and she raced to figure out what had happened. On the surface, she could feel the paper flopping over onto the keys, uncharacteristically heavy. There was something even heavier on top of all that, and then she began to feel a very disagreeable sensation of frigid wetness permeating throughout the typewriter's outer casing. Extending the tendrils of her soul to dive down into the inner mechanics, she gasped at how quickly everything was going awry. She could feel things begin to slick and jam and stick and chafe as the mystery liquid's sugar syruped up the system.

"Whoops... Looks like the flyin punch fell on your typewriter. Sorry, it was a accident. You miiiight want to clean that up fast, or else it will get sticky."

Was that Drake? Robyn panicked as she realized it was getting harder to hear; it was as if she were submerged in the ocean, trying to hear someone calling from the shore. He said something about punch. Had a fight broken out? Or-- Oh God. OH GOD. IT WAS THE PUNCH. PUNCH EVERYWHERE. TYPEWRITERS DO NOT OPERATE ON PUNCH, IN FACT QUITE THE OPPOSITE IS TRUE, OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD OH MAN.

Robyn's thoughts were erupting with fear as she swiveled her mind back around to focus on the piece of paper, which was starting to waver in and out of her sight. If her soul was destined to be trapped in a typewriter, she was NOT going to let it die on her. She struggled to get the keys to cooperate.

Ion@@@@@? rap, soe of the kes are stikin.! Iiion, help!.!!!.!

She could've cried when she saw parts of the ink begin to bleed black down the page.

[Avery]

Terra marks the first time the Narrator has decided it is not worth it to take the body. It's not that she thinks Terra wouldn't be delicious, but frankly, the girl's ghost is sort of scaring her. Flying about the room yelling nonsensical threats, all her repressed rage finally shown. The Narrator is seriously questioning her decision to ever come to Netwaffle. These townspeople are more than foolish; they're barking mad.

Once let out of the ballroom, she hurries back to her shop. She considers locking it-- closing it-- but then decides against this. Alone, she will be a target. She needs customers. People.

She is panicking; she knows this. Hands shaking, she fumbles for a pen and piece of paper and writes in big block letters:

FREE PIES! FOR EVERYONE! PLEASE COME!

Then she tacks it up in the front window.

She sure hopes customers show up. After all, while the Narrator admits that Porpington was out of his mind locking the townspeople in the civic center, the Narrator does admit that there is some degree of safety in numbers-- so long as people don't go wandering off by their lonesome into abandoned bathrooms and the like.

So, company. She needs it. Craves it.

"Please," she says aloud. "Please, someone, show up soon!"

[Draco]

Drake leaned against the counter of the deli. Business was a bit slow with all the people in town dying and stuff. He was trying to figure out how he could offer food to the ghosts around town, and how he could get paid by them. Nothing was really coming to mind. He just thought about the dance.

Terra being in the Mafia? Her really crazy ghost after. The thoughts of the mayor didn't really surface in his head, he didn't really care about him. The town needed a new one anyhow he thought. He wasn't much of a leader though, so he wasn't about to run. And soon there would't be anyone to be mayor of anyhow at this rate. The Mafia and Townspeople were killing each other off almost daily.

He takes out some cabbages and begins to cut them up for coleslaw.

[icon]

Icon was panicking. He had told Terra about his investigation, how he was planning to try to search for the Mafia, and then this happened. And she was one of them. Who could tell what would happen next? It was almost certain that her spirit would stay around, advising her fellow mafiosos. With a ghost around, the townsmembers would have to be even more careful...

He looked down at the typewriter clutched in his hands. He had almost forgotten about Robyn the entire time, but the huge punch spill evidently seemed to have taken effect on her. Nearly all of her keys were sticking, the papers were soggy, she could hardly type. It must have felt horrible for her, being unable to communicate.

Practically sprinting toward his home, he was wary of anything that could be happening next. He slammed the door and set his typewriter on his desk, reaching for a set of tools.

"Don't worry, Robyn, I'll get you fixed up in no time at all. I'm afraid I'm going to have to remove some of your parts for cleaning- you might not be able to talk completely for the time being, but I'll do my best to get you back in action as soon as possible, okay?"

[Luna]

Luna couldn't believe Terra was in the Mafia. She seemed like a such a nice girl, she would have never thought....But who left even seemed like they where in the Mafia? They all were nice people. Besides Glenda. Something didn't sit right in Luna's mind about Glenda. Luna always thought of her as the crazy witch lady with tea. Luna had only bought from her store once, and had a bad headache after words. She wasn't quiet sure what she even bought, thinking of it, the headache must have made her forget.

Luna had walked home and fallen asleep, since the town was released around 11 PM. She woke up and changed into something more suitable to walk around town in. She walked downstairs and walked out of the shop. She noticed Icon speed walking toward his house, holding his type writer as if it was a new born child. She shrug.

Luna walked around and noticed the sign for free pies at Nelly & Candy's Pie and Bakeshop. She wasn't hungry, but a free pie was a free pie. She walked in and looked around, the shop was empty, besides Nelly, looking someone afraid. "Uhhh...Hey, do you guys make anything that isn't a meat pie?"

[Avery]

The Narrator practically squeals with glee when a customer-- Luna-- finally enters her shop. She shepherds the girl to a table and presents her with a mug of ale, silently thanking the heavens for the fact that she is no longer entirely alone.

"Uhhh...Hey, do you guys make anything that isn't a meat pie?"

"Oh... um... yes!" says the Narrator. Really the production of non-pie products is minimal, but after some scrounging about in the kitchen, she comes up with several stale sugar cookies and a slice of butter cake. She presents them to Luna, then takes a seat across the table from the girl.

"This town," she says dimly, "is so... dark nowadays, don't you think? And really, killing Porpington might not have been the smartest thing. I mean, he was the mayor. Do you really think he can just disappear without any outsiders poking about?"

[Lizzie]

(pssst, Carrie, Candy makes everything but meat pies... So there's a lot)

[Avery]

The residents of Netwaffle really had lost their minds if they thought murdering their mayor at the town dance would go unnoticed and unpunished.

Executing murder suspects, even those who later proved to be innocent, was one thing. It was a tetchy line, a hollow ground, but at least there was purpose behind it, reason. Stringing up the mayor in full view of several dozen witnesses, though?

Well, that was a different beast altogether.

**

The Greater Splatterboard Investigation Squad-- GSIS-- showed up the morning after the dance after rumors of a hanged, cut up mayor in Netwaffle started floating about. The GSIS was already well aware of the mafia murders, of course, but they were wary of getting involved. Let the town police itself, right? And if a few innocent civilians turned up lynched in the process, well... oops.

Then they heard about Porpington. Lynched, flayed Porpington.

They couldn't ignore Netwaffle after that.

**

As the members of GSIS drove up the country road leading into Netwaffle, several miles out from the village proper, something terrible was happening in the town square.

The town grocer had just opened his store for the day, fresh greens displayed, milk thoroughly stocked, when he stepped out the side door for a smoke break. Well, tried to step out the door, anyhow. There was something blocking his path.

It was the body of a woman.

Pale. White. Dead.

It only took the grocer a split second to realize her identity: Madame Ginz, the town fortune-teller. Even in death, there was a look of foreboding frozen on her face. A look of sheer panic.

The grocer was about to leave the body so he could alert the town of the death when he noticed a piece of paper crumpled in Madame Ginz's fist. Apprehensively, the grocer pried it out. Unfolded it.

I have too long kept silent, but no more! I now must admit that I witnessed the mafia commit one of their heinous murders. I have stayed quiet out of fear, for I only spied three of their identities-- but it has gone on too long. Too many deaths! Thus, I sign this anonymous note and deposit it into the town hall 'Please Tell Us the Killers!' tip box. You see, the mafia members are--

But the ink bled then, smudged together, the names indiscernible. Heart thudding, the grocer pocketed the note and ran to tell others of Madame Ginz's death. Meanwhile, across town, the GSIS had arrived.

**

The GSIS rolled into Netwaffle to find the town in disarray, people running up and down the streets, screaming of another murder. The investigators had hoped for a quiet, rational survey of the town, but clearly this was not going to happen. They needed to instill order and fast-- and so they began to arrest the frantic townspeople, depositing them one after the other into the civic center that had held the dance the night before. Only this time the citizens were chained to chairs, all lined up in a tidy row, to await questioning.

Oh, that Porpington! Causing such strife even in death!

Alas.

Madame Ginz was the witness.
Setting: Contained in the civic center by the GSIS

[Gelquie]

Glenda absolutely couldn't believe it. First, there was another murder, and then she was taken in by the GSIS and was chained to her chair, such that she not only couldn't take advantage of the morning to walk around much...

But she didn't have time to take another swig of her blessed hangover cure.

_{"Couldn't you at least let me have another cup of tea? This headache's killing me..."} Glenda groaned as she stared at her feet.

Things only seemed worse as she thought about what happened. Madame Ginz, dead? She could barely believe it when she heard the news. For one thing, she had just lost her best customer. But she was also one of the only other inhabitants in the town that she got along with. They had so many wonderful talks. She remembered when she predicted Amati's death, and while it didn't come true right away, it did help lead to the death of a Mafia member. It was more reason to admire Ginz's talents.

But now she was dead. She really didn't have many people left to talk to; most of the nobles were dead and now Ginz. Business and cordial talk... It just felt empty to Glenda.

The emptiness of her stomach was interrupted by another twist of pain in her already throbbing hangover. She wished she could at least lay down.

_{"Bloody headache..."} She rocked herself in her chair as much as she could, trying to distract herself from her own body waging war on her.

[Avery]

The Narrator is pretty peeved.

She was awoken from her delightfully townsfolk-free snooze in the back room of her shop by the sounds of screaming. It didn't take her long to realise that another murder had occurred. Sleepily, she'd slipped on a bathrobe and stepped outside-- only to be handcuffed by a rather surly looking GSIS man and dragged to the civic center. In her bathrobe. Barefoot.

If that wasn't bad enough, she is then chained into a chair next to Glenda Noshus, who is clearly hungover and murmuring to herself. Begging for tea. Looking like she might hurl.

"This is a disgrace," huffs the Narrator as more citizens are manhandled into the line of chairs.

She wonders who will get sat on her other side. She hopes it's someone who, unlike Glenda, has had time to shower since the disastrous dance the night before. And who won't giggle at her floral bathrobe and lavender-painted toenails.