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Post by Ginz ❤ on Jul 23, 2011 22:58:14 GMT -5
During the course of her life, Madame Ginz had seen far more than the average townsperson. Mostly because she was a seer, and she had learned to open her inner eye to things no one else could see. But also because she had become a witness, watching a murder with her own two eyes.
It had been hard, keeping quiet. It had been hard, keeping her cool when she had seen the people she would have least suspected commit such a crime. All that had ultimately lead to her death, the thing Ginz had dreaded the most. So how come now that she was dead she felt ... free? Her spirit flew out of her body, and she decided that, for the time being, she would remain invisible to all.
That night at the town dance, when the mayor and Terra were hanged, Terra had been pretty outspoken about the whole thing. “Oh, and by the way,” she said, “someone else is still going to die tomorrow. Count on it.”
Right after she said that, Madame Ginz had made eye contact with Terra's ghost for a split second. And that when she saw it. Her own death. She knew she was next. The shock of her last foreboding left her numb, almost as if she had been absent.
But she was anything but absent. She was much more quiet than usual, but her mind was racing. She knew she had to do something while she still could. With the last ounces of strenght and bravery she could muster, she wrote a note revealing the identity of the mafia members she knew. At this point, she had nothing to lose. Except for her life, but she couldn't help that.
But then, right before she could put the note where it belonged, she died. She was free of her curse and her gift, for ghosts can't make predictions. But maybe, just maybe, she'd still be able to help the town she had called home for so many years.
She floated away from her body, still invisible, just watching and waiting for now.
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Post by icon on Jul 24, 2011 0:55:56 GMT -5
Icon tensed up again when Drake replied. His ideas about their detainment seemed rather outlandish, but that part about killing all of them... he shuddered. It would be horrible, but they would have gotten rid of the Mafia for sure.
Having little else to do, he looked over himself and try to determine what had happened to bring him here. He was relatively certain he hadn't been "bagged and ruffed up", as Drake had said. However, he looked a bit wrinkled- had he gotten in a scuffle with the investigators before they took him here? Or maybe he was just dragged over. He didn't feel dizzy for any reason. It was all so confusing.
He decided to lean his head back and let his mind wander. The recent murders had been horrible for everyone. People were getting killed off faster than he could blink. And since there had been four deaths yesterday... things were not looking up for the town of Netwaffle.
If only Robyn were still alive. Robyn. It really was awful that she died- he still hadn't gotten over any of the deaths well, but Robyn in particular stood out. The were best friends, partners in metaphorical crime... he had no idea where she was. For all he knew she could have been anywhere from in his room to out on the pavement. He had the strangest feeling that she could have been in trouble, but he shrugged it off. If she was in any danger, she could handle herself. Even as a typewriter she was still pretty clever.
He considered trying to make a joke. Maybe if he focused on something else he could calm down a bit, even if everyone else nearby got irritated.
...Nope, nothing was coming to him. Well, it was worth a shot.
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Post by Avery on Jul 24, 2011 1:54:41 GMT -5
The Narrator is getting a bit claustrophobic. Too many people pushed up close together, and the GSIS pacing the building, looking all angry-- it's just too much for her, an innocent pie proprietor, never hurt anyone in her life!
She is growing seriously uncomfortable when a GSIS man finally paces up to her, stares into her eyes. She has the urge to spit on him, but holds herself back, deciding this would not help anyone.
"Can I help you?" she says coolly.
He says nothing for a moment, then steps back and surveys his suspects (more like prisoners, thinks the Narrator).
"You all have been rounded up this morning," he finally says, "because there was a murder here last night, of one Mayor Porpington. A murder that cannot go unpunished."
"You know," says the Narrator, "there was a murder here this morning, too. And a few mornings ago, as well. Lots of murders. Funny how you guys just show up now."
The GSIS man ignores her and prattles on, "You are all suspects. You have the right to remain silent, but I recommend someone talk unless you all want to go behind bars. Name names now, and perhaps you'll be let free. Given immunity and what have you."
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Post by Luna on Jul 24, 2011 8:14:11 GMT -5
Luna had been sitting there for what felt like forever. She started to review her thoughts of the dance, and if there was anyone who stood out.
Glenda was acting drunk and crazy, but I guess that's just because she was drunk and is crazy. Luna thought. Icon and Terra where under the table...What where they doing? Making out under there? Luna shook the thought from her head, this wasn't time to think about the next new couple in Netwaffle. Drake hit the table and sent the punch bowl flying on Icon's typewriter...The Typewriter. That old thing seemed priceless to Icon, like it meant everything to Icon, like ever since Robyn died it was the only thing h- Luna's thought was broken by a GSIS man.
"You all have been rounded up this morning because there was a murder here last night, of one Mayor Porpington. A murder that cannot go unpunished."
"You know," Nelly interrupted him. "there was a murder here this morning, too. And a few mornings ago, as well. Lots of murders. Funny how you guys just show up now."
He ignored her. "You are all suspects. You have the right to remain silent, but I recommend someone talk unless you all want to go behind bars. Name names now, and perhaps you'll be let free. Given immunity and what have you."
Luna made a little chuckle. "Pfft, I guess when 6 others have been murdered by the hands of the Mafia, it only means anything" Luna said in a mocking tone. "if a big-shot is killed. I mean is he even a that big? He is the mayor of a town that has 2 people murdered a night. And what did he do about? Locked us up in the ballroom, Mafia and Townsperson, and Soommmehow, by the impossible, the Mafia kills someone." Luna growled.
"The heck with "Greater" Investigation Squad." Luna whispered under her breathe.
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Post by Lizzie on Jul 24, 2011 10:47:24 GMT -5
Candy looked uncertainly at Luna, who was right next to her (if I read that graph correctly...) with confused eyes. ((Since I didn't respond after that one dance post, and only posted a correction to Carrie last round...))
"Whuzzhappinin'?" she murmured with a slurred, sleepy voice. After falling asleep in the corner-- at the dance, mind you, before Nelly had even come over to say hello-- she hadn't known about any murders at all. In fact, until now, she didn't even know why they were here!
"Pfft, I guess when 6 others have been murdered by the hands of the Mafia, it only means anything if a big-shot is killed. I mean is he even a that big? He is the mayor of a town that has 2 people murdered a night. And what did he do about? Locked us up in the ballroom, Mafia and Townsperson, and Soommmehow, by the impossible, the Mafia kills someone."
Candy's head jerked up at Luna's words.
"Whaaaat?! The mayor is dead? Two people murdered?" she squeaked, "I only remember the beginning of the dance... what happened?"
...Except, at second glance, Luna was on the other side of the room, not next to her at all. Strange. Candy shook her head, and wondered if she should go back to sleep, since she was seeing things.
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Post by Luna on Jul 24, 2011 10:51:38 GMT -5
((Actually, Candy is on the complete opposite side of Luna, on the other end of the chairs. XD;  ) |
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Post by Lizzie on Jul 24, 2011 11:00:37 GMT -5
((Actually, Candy is on the complete opposite side of Luna, on the other end of the chairs. XD; ) ((Ah, must have been reading it wrong. Thanks!)) |
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Post by Terra on Jul 24, 2011 15:26:23 GMT -5
"Wake up."
John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt kicked Candy in the shin.
Though he probably would've said "kicked" was a strong word, because it was really more of a tap designed to jolt her into a state of alertness, not a sharp force delivered by foot and intended to harm her.
"Yer 'ere as a suspect in the murders that've been occurrin' in this town. Y'know - Mayor Porpin'ton, Mr. Maximillian, Celes Teal..." He struggled to remember the other names. "Robyn Byrd...Terra...Snow? That fortune-tellin' lady...point is, it's a lot. And because yeh were all at the dance las' night, yeh're all suspects."
He turned. Some wolf-girl was giving some lip to one of his colleagues.
"Hey," he barked. "Shut up unless yeh've got somethin' useful to say."
None of the detainees had said anything useful all morning. He was getting a little testy.
He decided that maybe they needed a little...persuasion.
He pulled out his gun and pointed it upward in what he thought was a reasonably threatening gesture.
"Here's the deal," he said. "Y'all need to talk. We ain't gonna be lettin' any of yeh go unless yeh give us some answers. So, if you know anythin', say it now and we just might let yeh go. I'm gettin' kinda bored, and when John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt gets bored, there's no tellin' what might happen. So, for Sparky's sake, say somethin'!"
He pointed his gun at Candy, thinking that maybe that would get her to talk more quickly. He was bored. If anything would get them to talk, he was willing to try it.
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Post by icon on Jul 24, 2011 15:42:47 GMT -5
"Here's the deal, y'all need to talk. We ain't gonna be lettin' any of yeh go unless yeh give us some answers. So, if you know anythin', say it now and we just might let yeh go. I'm gettin' kinda bored, and when John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt gets bored, there's no tellin' what might happen. So, for Sparky's sake, say somethin'!"
"What do you expect us to say?" Icon grumbled. "If we had any idea who the Mafia were, don't you think we would have said so by now? And besides, it's not like anyone is going to stand up and say 'Oh, it's me, I killed everyone!'"
It occurred to him that nobody could even stand up in the first place, but he continued ranting. "You see, if you had come sooner instead of waiting for Porpington, maybe we could actually have gotten this problem solved. Fat lot of good this is doing everyone here now." He was probably going to regret saying that, but there wasn't really much else he could say at this point, was there?
He fell silent once again, anxious to see what the others would say. Maybe, just maybe if they were lucky, someone might slip up and say something they shouldn't have, and they could get out of here.
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Post by Draco on Jul 24, 2011 19:57:54 GMT -5
Drake rubs his head on Icon's shoulder again, head still throbbing.
"What the heck did they hit me with? A chair?"
---
Meanwhile, in the Deli, lays a broken chair, broken table, a broken brick, a broken cabbage, and a copy of one of his books, oddly broken.
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Listening to what everyone was saying, he can't really decide what to say... So he figured a direct approach might speed things up.
"You heard him, he killed everyone. Can we go now? My head feels like it crashed into a door..."
---
Back at the deli, there is a mark on the door of the deli about the size of Drake's head.
---
He shakes his head a little.
"But really... We all know that there are Mafia mixed in our group. Right now the most organized people are you bunch who tied us up in the first place. Pointing a gun at Candy isn't going to make things speed up. I mean really, she's half asleep. Kidnapping us at noon might have been a smarter idea. Heck, I don't even know who died today, but considering we are missing a certain fortune teller, I can take a guess."
Looking around the best he can.
"Personally the most suspicious ones here are the guy I keep rubbing my head on."
He tries to lean closer to one of the GSIS and whispers.
"He talks to typewriters and holds them like they are babies."
He leans back looking around.
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Post by Avery on Jul 24, 2011 20:03:35 GMT -5
True to form, it just takes a gun pointed at her dear protege, Candy, for the accusations to start. Some townsfolk are still being contrary-- Icon, for example-- but the Narrator watches as Drake leans forward and whispers to a GSIS man. She can't make out individual words, but from the look on his face, it's an accusation.
A feeling of unadulterated fear blooms within her. Who has he accused? Are the GSIS going to just take his word at face value and cart whomever it is away, to be locked up forever? Oh, what if it's her!? She glances at the rest of the townspeople, debates with herself for a few moments, and then makes a decision that sends her stomach flipping.
"I am perfectly innocent!" she declares. "And-and, whatever he's saying, don't listen to him! He's just a bitter bloke, always thinks he's too good for the rest of us! But I'm not, see? I can help you!"
The Narrator knows she may later regret the decision to turn on the people of the Netwaffle, but hey-- self preservation, right? And outside of Candy, she's never much liked the lot of them anyway. Survival of the fittest.
Still, her stomach does not settle. She feels the eyes of the belligerent townspeople bearing into her, as well as Drake.
She has a feeling someone is going to end up lynched again very, very soon-- all these chains be darned.
((That serves as my reminder to please cast your execution votes by the deadline tomorrow. =D))
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Post by Deleted on Jul 24, 2011 20:15:26 GMT -5
((I suppose since the weekend is almost over, I'm back here for real.))
After floating around Peter's - okay, it was Jospeh's, but the house might as well be theirs now, Ari was getting pretty bored. She wanted to see what was going on. Why were the townspeople being rounded up?
This wasn't right. It was all because Porpington had been stupid enough to swallow that key. Really, the new mayor had better be smart. Because these days, not smart got you killed. Which was why Ari regretted her naivety in life.
Ari floated right in to the civic center and walked (as best she could) calmly up to John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.
"Excuse me," she said, "but I don't know what you're thinking. You might be pointing a weapon at someone completely innocent. And did you forget me or something? Because you didn't speak my name in the list of murders."
Unrelated to current events, Ari had taken an interest in reading myths and fairy tales. Because she was still superstitious, and any story about the water of life or similar made her heart flutter - metaphorically speaking, of course. Was this the solution?
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Post by Lizzie on Jul 24, 2011 21:00:16 GMT -5
"Wake up."
Candy felt herself being kicked in the shin.
"Ow!" she cried, and instinctively flinched, as if to cover her shin with her hands. At least she was mostly awake now.
"Yer 'ere as a suspect in the murders that've been occurrin' in this town. Y'know - Mayor Porpin'ton, Mr. Maximillian, Celes Teal... Robyn Byrd...Terra...Snow? That fortune-tellin' lady...point is, it's a lot. And because yeh were all at the dance las' night, yeh're all suspects."
Candy's eyes widened.
"I'm a suspect? But I wasn't even awake for most of the dance!" she protested.
"Here's the deal. Y'all need to talk. We ain't gonna be lettin' any of yeh go unless yeh give us some answers. So, if you know anythin', say it now and we just might let yeh go. I'm gettin' kinda bored, and when John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt gets bored, there's no tellin' what might happen. So, for Sparky's sake, say somethin'!"
"But I don't know anything! Most of the people here... they're my friends! Or, in the case of many, WERE my friends, before they died. How could you suspect me of killing my friends? I couldn't kill a fly! I throw up at the sight of blood, for Pete's sake, just ask Nel--" Candy stopped when a gun was shoved in her face, so to speak, and jolted backward, whimpering, "Wh... what are you doing?"
"But really... We all know that there are Mafia mixed in our group. Right now the most organized people are you bunch who tied us up in the first place. Pointing a gun at Candy isn't going to make things speed up. I mean really, she's half asleep. Kidnapping us at noon might have been a smarter idea. Heck, I don't even know who died today, but considering we are missing a certain fortune teller, I can take a guess."
Candy whimpered at the sound of Drake's voice.
"Drake... is it true? Is Madame Ginz dead?" she said clearly, trying to lean back into her chair, away from the gun. She hoped those weird metal neck brace things wouldn't grab her neck or whatever, so she couldn't move any more than she already couldn't.
"I am perfectly innocent! And-and, whatever he's saying, don't listen to him! He's just a bitter bloke, always thinks he's too good for the rest of us! But I'm not, see? I can help you!"
Candy stared at her boss, her mentor in baking. Was Nelly trying to point the blame at Drake?
"Wait, wait! Nelly is innocent, like she said. But Drake isn't bitter, he's just a bit scary at times!" she said with a slightly upset tone, and continued with slight curiosity, "And honestly, do you really know who's killing us all, Nelly?"
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Post by Draco on Jul 24, 2011 21:59:03 GMT -5
One of the GSIS jump when Ari appears.
"Ghosts are real!"
He points a tiny little pen like object at the ghost and fires it. A little laser goes out and gently sparks Ari's ghost.
"I... I thought that would be stronger. I picked it up from a Ghostbuster back in Tabloid Town! This thing is useless! Last time I trade with a talking turnip. I lost $200 too....."
He walks outside depressed.
---
Drake just watches.
"That... Was odd..."
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Post by Robyn on Jul 25, 2011 1:13:06 GMT -5
((I apologize in advance for the huge post, but I had to honor Terra's awesome last post with a hopefully equally awesome reply. X3))
Icon was gone, and Robyn was silent. She'd heard a one-sided commotion earlier-- the knocks at the door, the quickly muttered rights, the clinking of cuffs, and the faraway squealing of tires-- but she hadn't tried to intervene. Her dear father had often told her that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results, and Robyn wasn't about to pretend that this environment wasn't perfect for breeding complete mental destruction.
The constant cycle of trying to communicate with the outside world and being either overlooked or noticed far too late was wearing on her sanity; she knew as much once she nearly hit bottom after the punch mishap. To see that paper, that one link to the plane of the living, dissolving before her eyes to leave her trapped in that sea of blackness...well, it was around that time that she started formulating her escape plan. As soon as Icon had left, she set it into action.
Enough time had passed for her to know the majority of the typewriter by heart. Manipulating the hundreds of circles and rods that occupied the trenches of the machine was now as natural to her as operating her camera had been, if not more so. She'd never had so much free time to get a feel for the true technicalities of her instrument (but then again, she'd never been trapped inside of it either). Robyn had built her way up in the machine, bottom to top. Before, she'd been able to feel others' hands on the paper, but never been able to truly stretch her soul outside of that exit, so occupied was she with typing out her commentary to Icon all the time. Her attentions had always been so divided. She'd wasted a lot of time with that split concentration, but no more. She was getting out of here if it was the last thing she ever did.
And then there was movement. Robyn pushed her soul through the levers and channels, picking up speed as she traversed the metal maze, sinking deeper into her engrossment with her mission as she went along.
"I can see you."
It was the last noise Robyn heard before she became fully submerged in her mechanical trance, and even if she realized the implications of that particular voice, she knew she couldn't afford to pay it any attention. Not if this was going to work. However, with the taxation of her sense of sound came the most wonderful trade-off: sight. Where there had been darkness for so long, now there were brilliant flashes of white and blue sparking off of the silver and black channels she coasted across, a line of lanterns to replace her hands against the shadowed walls. She coursed within the typewriter, the blood inside its robot veins, and before too long, she could see the rectangle of light that marked her escape hovering right above her head.
She rushed it. Finally, she was on the threshold of having everything returned to her-- she could see the picture frames on the shelf just above Icon's desk, smell the dominate ink fading against the cozy aromas of his home, hear the sounds of the refrigerator whirring and the neighbor's wind chimes and
"So. Let's go for it, shall we?"
Robyn surged out of her prison in a tornado spectacle of aura and flame as pain sliced beside her spine. She screamed as she swirled around, eyes burning silver-blue.
"Oh, God!" she choked out upon seeing the tip of the knife sink further into the typewriter, and having the wound lengthen that much more. Robyn arched her back as she dragged the last of her being all the way out, her cries of agony almost feral in their sincerity. She pressed a hand to the gash, and when she brought it back in front of her eyes, her fingers were dripping navy. The fire died from her expression. Her pupils and irises slowly came back into existence as she lowered her hand, looking at Terra over the cobalt hills her fingers made. The murderous ghost floated back a bit as Robyn began to laugh.
"I did it," she chuckled, her form heaving from the trauma and disbelief, "I'm. Holy-- my voice! Haha! I'm talking, and I'm out, and I did it."
Robyn jerked her hand down by her side, and the blood flicked across Icon's front room, glowing. Her voice was shaky, slow, and strange.
"So," she said, "ghosts can't cry, but I guess we can bleed? I'm pretty sure this is blood. Feels like it."
She rubbed her fingertips together. "Yeah. Yeah. That's weird, right?"
The smile slid from her face as she stared at Terra. She floated, trembling, towards her assailant, drifting over the typewriter so that she was between it and the other ghost.
"Listen," Robyn rasped, "You killed me once before. We were in the alley, and you ganged up on me with your friends, and you stabbed me then, and-- it was an ambush. You didn't play fair."
She winced as she reached an arm behind her and carefully pushed the knife all the way into the typewriter. It disappeared within the machine.
"Now, if you're trying to kill me again-- which, it's...starting to look like you could do it if you tried, you're going to kill me on my terms. You're going to have to earn it."
Robyn seized up a little as she glided to the side, providing Terra with a clear path to the typewriter. She took her place in front of the door.
"I know you're clever, Terra. So you can decide where we go from here. We-- you can try to get your knife back out of that typewriter, but I think you and I both have a pretty good idea of how that will end up. Or..." she coughed a few tiny flecks of blue, "Or you can stop being a coward and let me fight for my afterlife. You've already got a head start. Fight me for it."
Ghostly rivulets streamed down her back, and besides the noiseless drips of blood onto the carpet, the room was deathly still.
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