NTWF Mafia II: The Idyllic Village of Wafflenet

[Draco]

A door is kicked down, and if there wasn't a door, there was one placed down so it could be kicked down! Rocky's sister, covered in ash, her curly hair slightly singed, walks in and handcuffs herself to a pink bonsai tree, which she handcuffs to Don Dan.

"Do not worry, the fire is out!"

She plops her butt down and falls asleep instantly drooling on whoever her neighbor is. The pink tree just sort of sits there and does what trees do.

Rocky is nowhere to be seen at this moment.

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

“Fluffle, don't, I need this. It’s the only wa-“

Fluffle stepped back. Her ears tilted behind her head in shame. The earpiece looked delicious, but Fluffle now understood that he needed it because he was a handicapped ghost. If it was removed, he might disappear or explode. She looked down, embarrassed. Here she was, trying to hire the fellow (that’s why she left the bakery, wasn’t it?) and she went and made a fool of herself by trying to eat that scrumptious looking badge.

BOOM.

Fluffle half expected a rippling rainbow to blossom after the noise of the explosion, but nope, there was just a fire and lots of rose petals.

They rained down, fluttering through Fluffle like tiny feathers. A full orange rose neatly fell in between Fluffle and Mick. Fluffle sniffed it, taking in a hint of its flowering scent, innocent and fresh and new. Fluffle gasped. The rose was ORANGE. Perhaps it meant…?

((At the same time, in a bedroom far, far away, the woman with the curly brown hair giggled gleefully to herself, enjoying Fluffle’s confusion…))

“Fluffle – have you seen Diana’s ghost? If she’s still alive – I don’t want her to hurt the town.”

The pony paced, willing herself not to feel as though she’d been crushed by a large millstone. Of course it was Diana he’d wanted to see. He was kind to her (except for that…one time) but he didn’t really want to talk to her. It was obvious. She did her best to shrug it off. Ghostly help would be nice, but it wouldn’t be much. She needed someone alive. Come to think of it, Fluffle had wanted to know about knitting, and had thought of getting some information out of Diana some time ago. The best thing to do was to go see Diana.

Fluffle searched the smoking sky for a bluish ghost with a skirt. The fire had gone out, but it was still tough to see. In the town square was a chain of people bound together by handcuffs and…Rocky! She felt as though she hadn’t seen him in years. There was Diana as well! But Diana didn’t look bluish at all. She had a reddish look to her.

Fluffle smiled at Mick with all her horsey teeth and pointed. Red looked good on Diana. It suited her. There was something about her that was strange, though. Like the forces behind a malevolent-looking yellow plushie.

But why was everyone handcuffed like that? And why was Ginz being taken to Waffles, No Nets? She wasn’t moving. She looked bluish but she wasn’t a ghost.

No.

Her favorite customer...she'd never get Fluffle's bakery. She was one of the more deserving folk, someone Fluffle could trust!...Bad description. Fluffle trusted everyone. Fluffle began to feel like the outdoors were closing in on her. She began to hyperventilate, and her eyes started stinging even though she didn’t want to do that here. Especially not in front of Mick. Oh, heck with this. Fluffle did not hide her moist eyes from him. But she did try to hide a sniffle.

There was a desperate need for comfort, yes, but more so, answers. She wanted to be petted so badly, that the wish nearly rose above all else, but the town of Wafflenet was held more significance to her. Diana had answers. The townspeople had answers. Fluffle packed her bow and arrow, then zipped back inside. She paused. What would someone who wanted to be forceful say in this situation? "Get in the car." Fluffle tilted her head. What she was about to do would be close enough.

The translucent pony gripped his arm and hoisted him onto her back, galloping towards the town square. Blasting would be a more appropriate term, for there were rocket propellers sticking out of her fluff, pushing her along...

[Avery]

So like, Blaze decided to super rally the town or whatevs but that didn't end well because the idiots ended up hanging someone else! Urgh! Brit was like, appalled of course, but also a little bit glad it wasn't her hanging. But like, she also knew that if these country folks kept killing one another-- both via mafia and executions-- well eventually the possible victims would run out and then she so totes was gonna die. Ohemgee!

Then even WORSE, some crazy food inspector guy showed up and found the bodies. Brit was sort of relieved about that one, actually, till the food inspector guy then went all super-justice-cop and chained EVERYONE TOGETHER in a circle in the town centre. Umm, hello! Britknee was so not ok being chained to these crazy people! At least the guy didn't confiscate her handbag, which she rested in her lap prior to being handcuffed.

"It's like, okay, Snuggles!" she said, wishing she could pet him but like, she so totes couldn't cos of the whole "chained to people" thing.

At least she wasn't chained to the worst ever people. Like, not to Yelly or any of the weird bird people or the alien lady. Instead, Brit had Tanya on one side, and Julie on the other.

Leaning over to Julie, Brit whispered, "Like, this guy is super crazy. Umm, how do you think we can escape?"

SPOILER: Click to show

((We were thinking in SkypeChat of making a set order of who-is-chained-to-whom in order for things to stay consistent. We've decided to chain all playable characters together for simplicity's sake. xD Tentatively, I think we'll have: (NPC Tanya) -> Britknee -> Julie -> Dove -> Osilon -> Blaze -> Tracy -> Birch -> Don Dan -> (NPC)... if that works for everyone. I'm guessing there's a coupla dozen NPCs as a whole.))

[Robyn]

“DOVE, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? WE GOT SOME MURDERER-FINDING TO DO."

The girl in question opened her bloodshot eyes and saw nothing. It'd only been a matter of hours since Dove last laid down, and her attempts at sleep had once again been fruitless. Her mind had been graciously empty, vision and noise blocked out by the pillow she had clutched to her face in desperation, but true unconsciousness never found her. It was torture.

But just now, that was Blaze-san, wasn't it? She'd shouted (obviously) from the street below for her help. Dove couldn't find the energy to smile, but it struck an emotional chord to realize that Blaze-san had called for her by her true name, not Puella Paloma Columbidae, as noble as her alter ego was. Maybe the town did need her? Just as her?

She couldn't imagine why. Dove didn't have any of the magical powers that Puella Paloma Columbidae boasted, and as she trudged up and laid out a new outfit, she noted that she lacked a fantastic coordinating crime-fighting ensemble like PPC too. Well, at least, she lacked one now that the flood had completely destroyed the cosplay. More money and time down the drain.

A quick shower and a change of clothes later, Dove stumbled out of her house in a pleated black skirt and a worn Totoro t-shirt, in a style she affectionately referred to as "animindie fresh". She came up with the name as one of her addled, sleep-deprived thoughts while walking straight in the middle of the street. The lack of sleep was NOT affecting her well.

"Blaze-san?" she called out confusedly. "Did you call? Is someone-- *yawn!* in trouble?"

"The only person in trouble here is YOU."

"Wh-- huh?"

Dove suddenly found herself accosted by a smartly dressed woman. She didn't look to be that much older than Dove was, and her dark hair was swept up into a professional-looking updo.

"You and everyone else in this town," the woman continued, "are all under serious investigation in regards to the deplorable conditions of Waffles, No Nets, and by extension, the entirety of Wafflenet. You'll have to come with me."

"Who're you?" Dove managed to mumble.

The lady raised a brow and looked her over. "Female, approximately late teens to early twenties, blonde hair, hazel eyes. Matches the description of a one Dove Byrd living at 284 Whitebeak Circle. Possibly inebriated at time of interception," she muttered, scribbling down notes onto a clipboard.

She then huffed and looked back up at Dove, holding out her hand. "My name is Monica Harr."

"Hajimemasteamy dunge, Harr-san," Dove said, bowing a little and extending her hand as well for a shake.

She was a tiny bit surprised when Harr-san turned what she thought was going to be a handshake into a full-on jiu-jitsu move, swinging behind Dove and painfully pinning her arm behind her back.

Dove struggled to break out of her foggy stupor. "Hey! What--"

"Please do not struggle. Miss Byrd, if you would come with me."

Dove had no choice but to march forward with Monica pushing her on. The cuffs were not so much of a surprise to her, but the daisy-chain method of keeping all the townspeople together...were. Dove looked to her left. A distressed looking Merlot-san sat beside her, seeming just as confused as Dove felt. She looked to her right--

WELL, IT WASN'T LIKE HER LUCK COULD GET ANY WORSE BY THIS POINT.

[Gelquie]

Julie was left in an uncertain state by the time she was caught and chained up with the rest of the town. They were so caught up in trying to find one of the murderers that her memory of the events ran together. They had begun accusations, then Ginz spoke up, and then no sooner had she done so was she hung, which was about the time that the food inspector arrived. Words were spoken, both by the food inspector, and before then, Diana, in a terrifying form, speaking words that still echoed ever so darkly in Julie's head.

And now here she was, chained up along with the rest in a circle. The chains were heavy, cold, and uncaring, sparing no amount of discomfort to her wrists. Worst of all, she couldn't even reach her mandolin or her flute the way her hands were bound. The hands that would normally be used to try to bring calm to the scene and to herself were now trapped and forced into a sedentary state.

So instead, she hummed a tune to herself, an old easy tune that she remembered from her childhood. The words had no meaning or sense, it was just a tune that felt right when she was down, and which helped when she needed to cheer herself up. Ultimately, however she couldn't really distract herself from the perils of the situation, or the recent hanging, or the feel of her manacles. Her mind raced regardless, just to the beat of the tune.

It was then that Britknee--who happened to be to her left--spoke up. "Like, this guy is super crazy. Umm, how do you think we can escape?"

Julie slowed her humming before she finally stopped, taking her time trying to think of an answer. She had been so caught up in what had happened that she hadn't even thought to decide what to do next. How could they escape? Or perhaps there was another way? ...Or should they even try? The inspector mostly seemed to want answers. But would he really let them go? What were they going to do to them? Were they going to help out? ...Perhaps it could ultimately lead to extra help in finding the murderers. Outside help, someone they could trust. Wasn't this what she wanted?

"I... I don't know if we can," Julie finally replied. "But... Maybe he really could help us if we just explain the situation to him. Then maybe he'll let us go, or at least soon, right? Maybe we should just talk to him, tell him what's been happening here."

[Terra]

When Blaze was asking Don Dan about Ginz, she hadn’t meant that they should HANG her, FOR GOD’S SAKE. She’d just thought that Ginz might have some USEFUL INFORMATION ABOUT THE MAFIA, GOD. But apparently the OTHERS thought it’d be a GREAT IDEA TO KILL HER! WOW. GREAT JOB, EVERYONE. GREAT JOB.

And now they were all handcuffed to each other in a daisy chain made by this weird food inspector guy and his assistant, neither of whom she’d ever seen before. LOVELY.

(Though, admittedly, it wasn’t a bad method of murder prevention, thought Blaze...)

Blaze was chained to Osi on one side and Tracy on the other. It could’ve been worse, really. These two were at least tolerable, unlike some in this town.

Meanwhile, Primrose was following the food inspector dude, growling. Chrysanthemum was nowhere to be seen.

“Ok! Clearly things are running very amok in this village! And no one is going anywhere until I get an explanation for it! Now, tell me: what the hell is going on here!?”

“What HAPPENED is that SOME PEOPLE started KILLING A BUNCH OF INNOCENT TOWNSPEOPLE and WE WERE LEFT TO DEAL WITH IT ON OUR OWN,” she said loudly. “LIKE A DOZEN PEOPLE OR SOMETHING HAVE DIED IN THE PAST COUPLE OF DAYS. DUE TO THIS MAFIA GROUP OR SOMETHING. MOSTLY.”

She thought back to Diana’s comments. She’d been annoyed with and dismissive of them at the time, and she was certainly still annoyed with them, but Diana had admittedly been right in saying that the Mafia had succeeded in wreaking havoc on the town.

And really, none of them were innocent. They’d all hanged people, hadn’t they? But as long as they admitted that, it wasn’t too late to stop. They could still carry out a real investigation and figure out who the original murderers were, lock them up, and then carry on with their lives.

“IF YOU CAN HELP US FIGURE OUT WHO THE MURDERERS ARE,” she shouted at the food inspector, “THAT’D BE AWESOME.”

“OH, YEAH, WHAT A GREAT JOB YOU’VE DONE WITH THAT SO FAR, HUH, CLARIBEL?!” a voice said shrilly from behind her.

Blaze didn’t even have to turn to see who was speaking; she recognized that voice all too well.

Unable to see the exact source of the voice, she threw her head back and screamed toward the heavens.

“DON’T. CALL. ME. CLARIBEL!”

Aaaaand a shouting match between the two sisters ensued.

[Lizica]

Before the lynching and general madness, Blaze had seized Tracy by the shoulders and looked her right in the eye.

“LOOK,” she said. “These aliens are DEVIOUS, DEADLY CREATURES. If they ARE, in fact, CAUSING ALL THESE DEATHS, it’s CLEAR HOW DANGEROUS THEY ARE.”

She cleared her throat. “HOWEVER,” she said. “I have a STRONG SUSPICION that the aliens ARE, IN FACT, WORKING AT LEAST IN PART WITH SOME OF OUR OWN TOWNSPEOPLE. IF WE CAN FIGURE OUT WHO THEY ARE, I BELIEVE THAT WILL BE THE KEY TO THWARTING THEIR PLANS.” She looked at Tracy imploringly.

Tracy's eyes were filled with tears. No one had ever believed her before. Always, the townspeople had been generally kind and cordial and straining to be polite, but no one had ever truly stopped to consider Tracy's perspective on these things. No one had ever believed her about the aliens. But Blaze and her wolves--they were behind her! They knew what was at stake!

“CAN YOU HELP ME WITH THAT?”

"Yes!" Tracy said tearfully. "Yes, I will help you." She paused. "But...but no one in town is dark-hearted enough by themselves to collaborate with the aliens. Recent events have all been triggered by extraterrestrial mind-manipulation. There are only good people in Wafflenet--..."

But then what appeared to be the red ghost of Ms. Diana Palladio swept up before the town square. She spoke in a cruel, hard voice and gestured with flagrant disdain. How was that possible? Ghosts were supposed to be free from the alien interference! There were only two possibilities: Blaze was right, and there were, in fact some true human traitors in their midst, OR...this red ghost was in fact a hologram projected by a spacecraft, designed to make the townspeople lose hope. How devious!

...But...it worked. Before Tracy knew what was happening, people began yelling, accusing, shoving (her radio was hit dozens of time in the scramble and was now going on the fritz), and Mrs. Maphia--Mrs. Ginz Maphia--of all people!--had been hanged!

Tracy had long suspected that the alien activity at the old Mahb place was due to the aliens seeing Mrs. Maphia's advanced science as a threat. Those fiends would not allow her pure motives to last, but if her being lynched was any indication, she had probably been well on her way to discovering a way to save humanity. Tracy wondered as she zoned out and was handcuffed and chained between Blaze and Dr. Birch--if Wafflenet could salvage Mrs. Maphia's science, her life's work, would that possibly be the key to defeating the aliens?

She looked up, suddenly conscious of their current situation. Tracy watched as Aaron Bear and his assistant finished chaining up the townspeople and making announcements.

As a general rule, Tracy did not much like political officials. They were always in positions of power that buried the truth and put on fronts about the conspiracies they all concealed; and they condemned those who tried to expose them.

This reminded Tracy of the old Wafflenet detective. Although she did not like him, she had long since realized that he could help the town.

"Hey--Hey, uhm, Mr. Bear," called Tracy. "Do you know Inspector Jenkins? Our old detective? He ran off like a ditzy little coward when all this started, but I think the townspeople would still rather listen to him than to you."

...That probably sounded antagonistic. Aaron Bear scowled at her.

"...Did that sound antagonistic?" she whispered to Dr. Birch, handcuffed at her right (since Blaze seemed preoccupied at the moment). They had a lot to work out, between the murders, the aliens, the town being handcuffed, the possibilities of actual traitors, the ghosts, and Mrs. Maphia's science, and now probably getting on the bad side of this new official, Aaron Bear. Tracy realized that his real mission in Wafflenet was probably to incapacitate the townspeople so none of them would be able to spread word about the alien invasion.

"You're endangering everybody!" Tracy protested loudly. "The aliens ARE coming, whether you choose to publicize the truth or n--"

His assistant slapped some duct tape over her mouth and primly walked away.

"Yhhhr dpd brrt, yhhr dmmmg bll!"

[Tiger]

Mick was grateful Fluffle stopped trying to get at his earpiece. He’d assumed earlier that Metastophelous would have a way to contact him even without the piece, but the orders to keep it safe suggested otherwise. Purgatory did seem like the sort of place where replacement parts weren’t provided.

There was an awkward moment as the rose petals – apparently there were only a few whole roses and not all of them were white – swirled through the air and through Mick’s body. He reached out a hand and tried to concentrate on letting a petal touch his palm – no such luck. These were completely foreign flowers.

Fluffle seemed upset at Mick’s question at first – he thought he’d made it clear that he wasn’t looking for Diana as a friend, but maybe not – and then, suddenly, Fluffle grinned and pointed in the direction of Waffles, No Nets.

Mick caught sight of the red specter and froze. Meta sucked in a sharp breath, and Mick heard several muted pings from his mentor’s side. “Meta, what is it?” He realized too late that talking to the earpiece was going to look very strange to Fluffle.

“Not a strawberry-flavored ghost, Micky, but that’s about all I can tell you.” Furious typing sounds rose in the background of their conversation. “Guess that’s one way to get around the ghost quota, come back as some sorta demon. Angelo, you’re gliding the wrong way.”

Mick looked down and saw he was indeed drifting, edging back toward the shadows where he’d half-hidden from Alex. The ghost suddenly felt shriveled and crumbly, like a dead fall leaf after a dry winter. He was dead, killed by a hanging that had left its marks on his intangible neck, and still, the thought of confronting Godmother Diana Pallada made him want to hide.

“Yep, that’s pretty sad, pathetic, and cowardly,” Meta said, his voice surprisingly level despite the storm of typing, and full of deep disgust. “See if you can resist the urge to run with your tail tucked for a couple seconds. Someone will swoop in and save the day for you. Heaven forbid you do it yourself.”

Someone grabbed his arm. Mick jumped, but before he knew it he was half-sunk in Fluffle’s, well, fluff – and suddenly the town was zooming past in a blur – there was no wind to accompany the travel, but Mick could still feel the terrible pulling like Mick’s stomach had been left several blocks behind.

“Hang on tight,” Meta advised, “and if you fall off, get back after the pony. She’s headin’ to the center’f town, and I’ve got plot alerts flying from there like nobody’s business.”

To Mick’s surprise, he managed to keep his seat until they passed Waffles, No Nets. Mick half-fel through the open door before catching himself, tail shaking. He felt like a lot of time had passed – Diana had probably left, he thought. “Hope,” Meta corrected before lapsing back into silence.

Mick looked around for Fluffle, motioning her to join him by the diner’s doorway if she wasn’t there already, and scrutinized the square. He didn’t see any red “ghosts”, but he did see a lot of living people – all chained together, and being shouted at by a man with a badge. The police? GSIS? Finally, someone who could help arrest the mafia –

“He’s not that kind of doctor.”

“…Well, no, he’s not any kind of doctor.”

“He’s a food inspector. Deputized.”

“…What in the underdeep is a food inspector doing here?!”

“Gee, Micky, I don’t know, why don’t you make some observations of your own for once! Or would it be easier for me to report on what this Err Bear guy is doing while you make sure raspberry-flavored ghosts aren’t a thing?”

“…I’ll let you get back to work.”

“I’d say bless you, but I’m really not in the mood for jokes right now.”

“Fluffle,” Mick whispered, “d’you know…d’you know who the last two mafia are? If we can get this guy’s keys and let out the innocents, but leave the mafia…we could end this whole thing here.”

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

Brakes. Brakes. BRAKES! Where were the brakes on this thing?! Fluffle reached into her fluff, not too hard with very little wind resistance, and frantically searched for a switch. Her rider was thrown off around the entrance of Waffles, No Nets, which was probably for the best. Fluffle dug her hooves into the earth (or rather, made them sink into the earth), and her face slammed into the dirt with the laws of physics somehow applying to her. Why was it that her forehead turned solid JUST before she hit something?

She shed the ethereal propellors and searched for her rider. She hoped he wasn’t too shaken. He’d seemed nervous about being on her back, and she could have sworn he was screaming—or was he talking to himself? Either way, she’d have to get herself sorted. Falls were nothing new to her, but crashes were.

Mick beckoned her to come towards him, to come to the doorway of the diner. He’d actually wanted her near him?! She looked at him more carefully. He tensely hovered by the doorway as though he didn’t want to be seen. This was serious, so no snuggling. She slid across the mud towards him as discreetly as she could, not moving her hooves that had sunk into the ground.

In the middle of the town square, everyone’s hands were joined together in a sick sort of circle with several pairs of cuffs. One of these handcuffs was different from the rest, with purple fluff on it. It was inscribed with the words Comic Con 2011.

At the same time, in a bedroom far, far away, the woman with long curly hair screamed. So THAT’S where her cuffs went!

A gentleman was shouting at the chained townspeople for an explanation, and Fluffle guessed that he was the one that got the whole town together in the first place. Dove appeared most unhappy to be cuffed with Osilon. Fluffle wasn’t sure why, Osilon was a pleasant man to talk to. Both he and Fluffle had unique methods of communication, and even though half the time they had no idea what the other was saying, ….interesting times were had.

“…What in the underdeep is a food inspector doing here?!” For pony’s sake, stop talking to yourself! she thought. “Shhh!” Fluffle put a hoof to Mick’s lips. Didn’t he want to not be noticed? Mick got the message and lowered his voice, grasping her hoof and pushing it out of the way. Oh, his hand touched her hoof…

Fluffle’s cheeks were about to flare up once more, but he’d asked something odd just then.

“Fluffle,” Mick whispered, “d’you know…d’you know who the last two mafia are? If we can get this guy’s keys and let out the innocents, but leave the mafia…we could end this whole thing here.”

Uh…what?! Wasn’t Mick a part of the mafia? Was this a trick? She raised a floating eyebrow at him. But to answer his question, she had a decent idea of who the rest of the mafia was. Death made lots of things clearer.

Fluffle opened her mouth.

Fluffle closed it. The last time she’d revealed something as important as that, the universe she was in crumbled, the faraway lady got yelled at, and Fluffle had to be completely shaved. SHAVED! Those days were horrendous. Being shaved and left out in the hot sun to burn or in the arctic with no fur on was the perfect punishment for shattering the sacred roleplay, but even then it had not stopped there…

Fluffle gulped and shook her head no. Not even for Mick would she bring Wafflenet into more danger. That would serve him right, but she admitted that she had selfish thoughts as well. No fluffy pony wanted to be shaved.

The pony shook her head once more, as though she wasn’t to be believed the first time. Nope. She had no idea who the other mafia members were. None whatsoever. Unh-uh.

She squinted past the townspeople. Diana didn’t seem to be there. Drat. Maybe she hadn’t gone fast enough.

If she didn’t know how to knit, maybe Dove did. Julie could tell either Diana or Dove what Fluffle had to say, and Penny would get her scarf!

But…mmm. Fluffle was unaware of the proximity between herself and Mick in the tiny doorway, but became aware of it as soon as she thought about Penny's scarf. His arm and tail were nearly embedded in her fluff, but she could still feel it, the same way one can feel someone tugging gently on a ponytail.

What she wouldn’t give for a scratch behind the ears…

[Draco]

Still wearing the cape and glasses Rocky flies around town. He was on a mission. And he managed to find his first target. He flies down from the sky, as fast as he could, until he was inches away from his target. The ghost man with the bluetooth!

He crashes into Mick and sits on him.

"I want you to cook for me."

[Avery]

"I... I don't know if we can. But... Maybe he really could help us if we just explain the situation to him. Then maybe he'll let us go, or at least soon, right? Maybe we should just talk to him, tell him what's been happening here."

Like, before moving to this stupid dumb village, Britknee might have maybe sort of agreed with Julie's reasoning. But like, living in this awful place had made Brit super totes cynical. She like, no faith in anyone anymore. Like, all the innocent people that had been executed had been all, talking and whatevs, and being all "OMG IT WASNT ME DONT KILL ME", in a perfectly reasonable way-- and still they'd been killed. So like, Brit didn't really think just explaining the situation to this scary inspector guy would go very well.

"Umm," she told Julie, "I think we totes need to think of a better idea!"

Down the human daisy-chain, the alien chick was like, yelling at the inspector dude and his gal, and got tape smacked over her mouth. Like, Britknee knew that had to be unkewl and awful, but was secretly a little pleased. Yay! One of the idiots couldn't talk anymore!

... except Yelly AND her yellier sister still could. Urgh! They were now screaming at each other and it was really hurting Britknee's ears.

"HEY!" she screeched at them. "Could you like, shut up!? No one wants to hear you guys!"

Then, she glanced down the line, past Julie and at the person chained on Julie's other side: Dove. Um, Britknee totes wasn't on good terms with Dove after the chick had like, jumped off a roof TWICE last night, even after Britknee tried to save her. But if Julie wasn't gonna help think up a kewler idea of how to get out of this situation-- well, Dove had proved proactive, right? Dumb, but proactive.

"Umm, Dove!" Brit squeaked with a smile. "Hey Dove! So, how do you think we should like, escape?"

[Dan]

"Say, where's your wife?" she asked Don Dan. "Her name's Ginz, right? Haven't seen her around this morning..."

It had been such an innocuous question. One that should have had an innocuous answer. But instead it had led directly to her swinging violently on the gallows. The same gallows he had just spent time and energy destroying for the express purpose of preventing any more deaths. A fat lot of good that had done. How stupid he was to think that it would have changed anything at all when it came to this town, and this group of people, and this chain of events. This was some potent Murphy's Law-type crap going on here: Rather than anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, he supposed the Wafflenet version would have to be amended:

Anyone that can die, will die.

First, the serial killer had taken his sister-in-law. Then, the mafia went after his brother-in-law. Apparently the townsfolk weren't content with leaving the family destruction to the actual murderers, and today they'd completed the hat trick. An entire family line snuffed out in the course of just a few days, and their home destroyed to boot. And now he was alone in this town of psychopaths, sadists, and enraged mobs.

He'd tried to stop them, he had. He did all he could to pull her out of the grip of the others, to save her from her fate. But it was hopeless. He was weak. Gangly, awkward, inefficient, same as he always was, and apparently same as he'd ever be. He thought this town was the escape from that. The escape from the glares and the suspicions, away from the judgment and derision at his entire appearance. Instead it just seemed like it'd be the punctuation on his ridiculous life. Maybe he even wanted it at this point. Without Ginz, what was the point? He doubted anyone else would look at him in the same way that she did. That's what he would miss the most.

It's what he wanted most of all at that moment. But it would never come. Instead he had been accosted and chained up with the others, though he hardly put up a fight. He could barely work up the motivation to lift his arms when they handcuffed him, too consumed with replaying the horrifying events of the execution in his head. And when the rest of the group had sat down to get more comfortable, he was yanked down with them, landing on his rear with a thud. Worse still, somehow he'd found himself linked to a small tree in a pot. What that was about, he had no idea, and he didn't really care to find out at that particular moment. People were chattering all around him, and there was some yelling between the redheads, but he tuned it out. The doctor, Birch, was chained next to him; quite the strong and silent type, he thought aimlessly. At that moment he was glad for it. If someone talked to him, he wasn't sure he'd even hear them. And why bother with talking? It was just marking time, until their time was up.

And if he'd learned anything this week, it was that: it was only a matter of time.

[Tiger]

Mick hadn’t even realized how loud he was speaking until Fluffle’s hoof touched his lips. Oh. He felt the absence of a racing heartbeat again as he removed the pony’s hoof. Metastophelous snorted and made a ‘euuuugh’ sound, like he’d just seen someone scrape a snail off the bottom of their boot. He asked about the mafia almost just to cover up the awkward moment.

Not surprisingly, Fluffle looked confused. Mick wondered if he should explain, but hesitated. Meta paused at his tapping and warned, “You tell the pony, and you’ve made things a bit easier for you. Punishment Committee likes to keep a balanced difficulty for our dearly re-deported souls, and they’re darn creative, Micky.” He decided not to say anything – yet.

Fluffle’s expression became panicked as she shook her head. Mick’s gut remembered the feeling of a clenching stomach, that guilty feeling he’d been tormented with so often in his last days of living. Did she think Mick was going to be angry with her for not knowing? Had he made her fearful with memories of the night she’d died? …Either way, Mick had screwed up again. Meta didn’t even have to comment on it this time, and oddly enough, he didn’t take advantage of the moment anyway.

Whatever Diana was, Mick thought, letting his arms drop to his sides, it must be serious for Metastophelous to ignore such an obvious opening. He didn’t see the red ghost…ly thing, but maybe Diana played by different rules - well, more different than the ones she’d played by as a Mafioso. Were there spirits that could become invisible to other spirits? Meta had taken time to specify that Mick could be seen by the town ghosts, so it could be-

Something was rushing at his face oh geez it was a person – “DUCK YOU MORON!” – crash!

Mick looked up to see Alex sitting on his chest. He was the most cheerful-looking ghost Mick had seen yet, and although the former server wouldn’t have been surprised by cursing or screaming or an attempt to stab him for getting Alex killed by-proxy...Alex had something else in mind.

”I want you to cook for me.”

“…Excuse me??”

“This is so not the time!” Meta snapped.

Will you shut up for two seconds?

Meta was silent for a moment, probably counting to ten. "Angelo, are you talking to me through the prose?”

I don’t know, I’m just trying not to look like a lunatic and a murderer!

“You’ve got an earpiece! It’s obvious somebody’s on the other line and you’re just such an important jerkwad that you have to confuse everybody and make your stupid phone call!”

Meta, I’m not in purgatory for texting and driving!

“You’re gonna be in a second purgatory for messing up the dialogue format! Geez, put some italics tags on! For god’s sake! There are children here!”

[icon]

Time, time, time was running low, Osilon thought.

Shortly after Mrs. Mahb Maphia was lynched, the health inspector arrived and chained everyone up. Osi looked around; yes, this was everyone in town, wasn't it. He was surprised that the man and his assistant could move so quickly with so many people in such a panic.

He looked around. Blaze was chained on his right, yelling at who knew what, and on the other side Dove was there, glaring at him. Lovely. At least if he needed anyone to yell at him he wouldn't be in short supply-

"Look here, folks, let's be reasonable." The voice of that inspector's assistant, Monica, rang out rather loudly. "Lynchings? Mafia? Aliens? You folks are completely mad! Out of your minds, I'd say." Osi heard her mutter something like "miracle they ever passed inspection" under her breath.

She was pacing around the circle again. "Now, let's see if anyone normal around here would like to explain what is going on. And don't pass off as clever and say it's something in the water..." She frowned for a moment. "Actually, if it is in the water we probably should know, y'know, that being our job and all... But the point stands."

The inspector's assistant stopped, set her feet down and turned toward the person in front of her. "How would you like to explain all of this?"

Osi stared at her through his goggles.

Monica frowned. "Not much of a talker, are you? Come on, just tell us what's going on. No need to worry, this isn't an interrogation."

More silence. The frown deepened; her 'Good Cop' impression was clearly of no use to her here.

She spoke a little louder: "I said this isn't an interrogation, you can talk freely! What do you think you are, some sort of stool pigeon?"

Osi looked up at that. Pigeons! ...No, he reminded himself, that was just a figure of speech. He resigned himself to slump back down, leaving the inspector's assistant to wander off in mild disgust.

[Draco]

Rocky removes his awesome glasses, which just poof to who knows where his ghost stuff comes from, and looks down at Mick.

"I want you to cook for me."

He gives Mick a serious look.

"I'm putting together a club of hosts. G-Host. So I need you."

He doesn't get up, but does begin to pose, elegantly with a rose.

"The G-Host Club is where the town's handsomest boys with too much time on their hands entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands. Just think of it as Wafflenet's elegant playground for the dead and beautiful."

"That's where you come in. We need to be able to offer the princesses meals, snacks, desserts, and so on if they so wish. And being able to be a host wouldn't hurt either."

He hands Mick a colored rose, then waves to Fluffle.