NTWF Mafia II: The Idyllic Village of Wafflenet

[Terra]

The world reformed around Terra and she saw she was in the central square of a run-down country town. She recognized it as Wafflenet; though she hadn’t ever physically set foot there, she had been following the ghostly 24-hour news coverage closely.

A fierce battle was raging beneath her; law enforcement officials and wolves and a few of the townspeople were fighting, the latter of which she immediately noticed, as they all stood out in the crowd. A teenage girl going ballistic; a shovel-wielding girl wearing a tinfoil hat; a redhead using a knife; a few people on the roof with nets.

Also, a large cluster of birds had formed a large humanoid shape and were now bearing down on the town.

Terra squinted, and among the birds, she could faintly see the shape of a ghost.

Impressive, she thought.

There was also the ghost of a man trying to sell some dolls, but he seemed entirely unconcerned with the battle; Terra felt safe dismissing him as a concern for the moment.

There had to be other ghosts around, with so many deaths having occurred, but she didn’t see any in the square yet.

So, she supposed, there was nothing left to do but figure out who the last Mafia member was.

She looked at Dove. Based on how she’d referred to the killer with neutral pronouns earlier, it seemed that she didn’t remember the killer’s identity, which meant Terra would have to resort to different tactics.

She looked around, trying to observe what she could. Maybe there would be hidden clues in the townspeople’s behavior; clues that would tell her what she needed to know.

After all, she was a killer herself. She knew what signs to look for.

* * *

Blaze had used her blade against far more lawmen than she was truly comfortable with.

She had stabbed three so far, and sliced at the skin of a few more; none of the wounds were fatal, however, as far as she could tell. She’d also acquired a few cuts and bruises along the way, but she couldn’t think about them now. She had more immediate things to worry about.

She sliced with her knife and punched with her free hand wherever she saw anyone threatening a wolf, momentarily stalling their attackers and giving them a chance to get away. Admittedly, many of the wolves were doing a great job of hurting the lawmen themselves. But she was more worried about the ones who weren’t.

Then Blaze nearly tripped over a wolf cub, Rue, who was trying to bite at the ankles of a lawman.

“Rue, STOP THAT -” and Blaze reached down to drag Rue away.

Then she felt a sharp pain in her right arm. Someone had sliced at it with a blade, going through her jacket and reaching her skin - and it had gone deeper than her previous wounds.

Heedless of the pain and the blood leaking out onto her clothing, she grabbed Rue, pulled her away, and ran.

She carried Rue (despite her struggles) behind a bush outside Waffles, No Nets - and found Annabel sitting there, staring in wide-eyed fear at the battle.

“You’re hurt,” said Annabel, when she turned toward Blaze; her eyes were immediately drawn toward the wound.

“I know,” said Blaze. “What are you doing here, Annabel? I thought you’d gone home!”

(For once in her life, she didn’t feel like shouting anymore. Her throat was raw just from breathing, and she was exhausted from the fight.)

“I couldn’t leave,” said Annabel. “But I couldn’t join the fight, either...I guess that makes me the worst kind of coward, doesn’t it.”

“Don’t say that,” said Blaze. “You have a healthy sense of self-preservation is what it sounds like to me.”

She winced in pain as Rue tried to escape from her grasp.

Annabel reached toward the wolf, but Rue snapped at her, forcing her to retreat.

“Sorry,” said Annabel, raising her hands as if doing the “I’m-not-armed” gesture. “Just trying to help.”

Blaze began running her fingers through Rue’s fur in an attempt to calm her down; it seemed to work, as Rue curled up in her lap.

Annabel looked at Blaze. “We should go home.”

“I can’t,” said Blaze. She looked out at the wolves, fighting. “I can’t just leave them.”

Then Blaze looked at Annabel. The thought entered her mind that maybe she could trust her, with some things.

“Also,” said Blaze. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Oh?” said Annabel.

But Blaze was distracted by a gunshot and a yelp -

“Primrose,” she said immediately, as she leapt to her feet and ran (Rue took the opportunity to run in a different direction.)

“CLARIBEL,” yelled Annabel desperately.

* * *

Terra approached the musician on the roof; she seemed to be the least preoccupied of the townspeople, relatively speaking; perfect for an interrogation.

“Do you need help with anything?” she said with a smile that she tried to make warm, but may very well have come off threatening. (Not that she particularly minded; she wasn’t here to make friends.)

Lightning sparked between her fingers. She didn’t yet know whether this musician was in the Mafia or not, but she would squeeze any information she could out of her.

Using any method that pleased her.

[Gelquie]

Their work wasn't as fast as could be hoped, but Julie, Mr. Bell, and Crystal were making good progress, even though they had to be more careful around the window now that the lawmen knew where they were. They had thrown down a few more nets on the lawmen, some of the nets being smaller due to the fact that the groups were becoming more scattered (not to mention the wolves and the birds). Still, it was something. And things seemed to be going well. The remaining citizens of the town were doing well enough against the lawmen despite their disadvantage. Julie hoped that with enough of them knocked out, they might have a chance. And then... Well, then they'd still have to worry about the last of the murderers...

Julie was just looking out the window while the other two were preparing another net when something else floated towards her. She recognized it as a ghost, but... It wasn't the ghost of anyone that she knew in town. She was sure that if she was a resident of Wafflenet, she would've seen her before.

“Do you need help with anything?” the ghost asked Julie with a smile. Between the smile that did not convince Julie and the lightning that flashed between the ghost's fingertips, Julie looked unsettled, but unsure of what the ghost wanted or where she came from.

"W-we could use help against the lawmen, and then there's still a murderer around..." Julie glanced up at the ghost's face with uncertainty. "But... I don't recognize you. Who are you?"

[icon]

It was flight, Osi thought. It was all the sensation of flight, of freedom, of feathers, of the birds that kept swirling, occasionally breaking loose and wreak havoc on the authorities, swooping down and causing chaos. It was a maelstrom of wings, the bird calls reaching a cacophony as the birds continued to increase in number, to expand in form, to make this humanoid shape even larger.

And still they came. He didn't even know why anymore, but the birds continued to arrive, brought forth by some sort of internal compass. Something in his mind yelled at him, shouted at him, what are you doing? Why are you doing this? You'll destroy the town at this rate! Osi shrugged it off, couldn't stop to hear it, he had to keep his mind together, keep himself together, keep the birds together; to get distracted now could be fatal. He pictured what could happen if the bird swarm were to collapse and almost shuddered. It was all birds at this rate; everything was birds.

A searing pain, now; he looked down through the mess of wings and talons to see that people were firing at the birds now; with so many packed so densely, there was hardly a chance to miss. The swarm was beginning to collapse, but the new arrivals made it even larger; the shape was devolving, morphing, becoming less and less human as they joined the fray. Come on, Osilon, don't let them break, don't let yourself break...

The monstrous formation of birds continued to fight, but deep within the center, Osi was starting to feel fuzzy. He could only do so much to help the town.

[Terra]

"W-we could use help against the lawmen, and then there's still a murderer around..." Julie glanced up at the ghost's face with uncertainty. "But... I don't recognize you. Who are you?"

“Oh, no one you know,” said Terra, again with a smile. “I do happen to have a lot of experience with this kind of situation, though. Something very similar happened in my own town. So, of course I would take an interest in this one. It’s only natural, right?”

She leaned in. “And about that murderer...I can help you with that situation. I just need you to tell me anything you might know about the last mafioso.” She paused. “Or that Diana person; she’s of significant interest to me, too, now that I think about it.”

She grinned. “Because I have a message for the Mafia.”

* * *

Blaze skidded to a halt as she found Primrose lying on the side of the battlefield of a town square. There was blood - she fell to her knees and started examining Primrose to find the wound.

It was in her front right paw; a bullet had lodged itself there - and there didn’t seem to be any other wounds. Primrose was still breathing, still awake, even; her eyes were open and blinking, though perhaps a bit dazed.

Blaze let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t fatal.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe,” said Blaze, and she dragged Primrose into a nearby gap between buildings, Primrose whimpering the whole way - but they had to get away from the battlefield if Blaze was going to treat this. She took off her backpack - which she’d been wearing the whole battle - and pulled out some bandages. Blaze winced at the pain in her own arm as she did so, but she could take care of it after she took care of Primrose.

She sanitized the wound and bandaged the wolf’s foot, though not without struggle; Primrose kept wincing and pulling away. But eventually she managed to secure the bandage, so Blaze then went to work on her own arm, taking off her jacket and rolling up her sleeve so she could bandage it herself.

Blaze looked around (and noticed that the huge flock of birds was forming a humanoid shape - what the hell? Was it that weird bird guy’s doing? What) - and she saw that there were a few other injured wolves, too. Maybe this was a better way of helping her wolves. Better than ineffectively stabbing lawmen, anyway. Why hadn’t she thought about this before?

Better get to work, then, she thought, and she got up and headed toward the nearest other injured wolf.

[Celestial]

Diana had managed to recover for the most part from being shot. Whatever the red stuff that had been leaking out of her had stopped and the wound no longer hurt her. She spent the better part of the night holed up under the gallows. The stench of death of the place was oddly rejuvinating to her revenant body and by morining, she was feeling a lot better physically. Just very, very angry.

The next thing she heard was screaming and shouting. The townspeople had crawled out of their hiding space, no doubt motivated by another murder by her colleague, and decided to fight the lawmen. Diana floated up to the top of the gallows and took out her notebook, its pages heaving with her own personal observations. This town really was meaning to go out with a bang. What did they hope to accomplish by fighting the law? They were murderers now, all of them. Even if her colleague died, it was likely that the rest of the townspeople would be taken away and jailed for the vigilante murders of both her colleagues and the other poor innocents who had given their lives to the greater historical forces that had driven this town to violence.

Whether they realised it or not, this town was finished. And Diana did not even have to do anything. The poison in the water system of Waffles, No Nets would mostl likely have spread by now, killing the townsfolk who would somehow escape jail. As it was in Netwaffle, so it would be here.

Diana opened her notebook and began writing her observations of the climactic final battle. The speech by Sparky, the wolfpack, the speech that Tracy made (Wafflenet was a footnote and at the same time, it was not. It was a footnote in most scholarly books but for her it was key evidence to her thesis on the cycle and cause of violence in the greater Splatterboard region), Stal, Julie and Crystal the floozy, the birds that Osi was commanding and many other things. Sometimes, Diana was a revenant but on this particular occassion, she had to be a scholar first. This kind of battle would not happen for a good long while yet and she owed it to herself and to others to record it, all in neat ghostly shorthand. Even Mick could wait his turn to die. History was happening here.

And then somebody said her name. Diana looked down and she grinned with delight. She recognised the woman standing in front of Julie from the photographs and court records of the Netwaffle case, the one she studied before coming her. Terra herself had arrived. The most vicious of the last mafia, according to what she had read. On one hand, Diana wanted to ask her all sorts of questions. On the other hand, she wanted to invite her to the slaughter.

So why not do both?

She tucked her ntoebook back into her jacket and hovered off the gallows, walking through the crowd. She glowed a bright crimson as she tapped Terra on the shoulder, smiling and adjusting her glasses.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear, isn't that how the old saying goes?" she asked Terra. "I would offer you my hand but it has been proven to hurt other ghosts. What was your message?"

[Lizica]

Tracy wasn't entirely sure how she was still alive, but everything was adrenaline at the moment, and she couldn't stop to wonder if the sharp pain in her leg was more than alien-induced brain trauma. There were gunshots--battle cries--wolves--giant nets--shrieks--did she smell gas?--and ghosts, but she didn't really look up from her shoveling spree until something blocked out the sun...

Holy--...

Sweet--...

Tracy broke out the big one.

"Sweet sasquatch buying shoes in Roswell."

Birds. Dozens--no, hundreds--no, thousands--of birds in a massive, skyscraping pinnacle. Surely, if anything on this good Earth could scare off bureaucrats and extraterrestrials, it was a gargantuan, churning mass of wild birds working as one. (As she stood staring open-mouthed at this spectacle, a government goon snuck up behind her, then was pummeled by Chet Flash and his can of spray paint.)

Her attention was returned to the battle when a high-pitched screech sounded behind her. Jenkins was cowering as a bureaucrat with a crazed look in his eye raised a long knife. Tracy knocked the goon out with her shovel and yelled at the old detective over the sound of screaming and crashing and flapping.

"Jenkins!" she cried, yanking him to his feet. His sunglasses were gone, and he was pale, shaking, and wide-eyed, completely at a loss. "Come on!" she said. "If you're going to run, then RUN. And if you want to help, then SPEAK UP. And if you're going to fight, then FIGHT. You can't be undercover! You had a job, you've got legs, and I have baseball bats in the Shipshape Shop! You're a sitting duck for bureaucrats and aliens!"

Jenkins's eyes suddenly widened even more. He gasped suddenly, wildly lashed out, and punched something behind Tracy with his fish hooks. Tracy turned around just as a lawman ran away, flailing his arms in pain. Tracy might have thanked the old detective, but when she turned back to him, Jenkins had turned tail and fled. Another lawman was aiming a shotgun at his back, and Tracy smacked the weapon, the aimed bullet digging into the dirt.

Dear old Wafflenet. There was fight in them yet. They would all protect each other while they still could.

Her radio's music gave a surge of volume.

[Tiger]

(( WHAT IS THIS ANOTHER TIGER AND CASSIE COLLAB I DON'T EVEN))

Mick thought he was through with the whole pseudo-passing out thing, but then his broken earpiece made a strange buzzing noise and suddenly his vision went black. He could still feel Fluffle’s fur, but at a…distance, if that was the right word for a touch.

“Hey, kid – don’t have much – oh! Obscura - that time already? Thane, too. Wonderful.”

…Metastophelous?

“Is the earpiece still compromised?” The voice was crisp, female, and had a trace of an accent Mick couldn’t place.

“Yeah, the kid hasn’t even touched the thing, far as I can tell. I swear he was wearing it crooked half the night.”

“Hm. And you tried getting in touch with him?”

“Yeah, up until he flew through Cherry Bright a second time. Figured he could use a rest from the squawking at that point.”

“Unusually thoughtful of you. But it’s obvious he’s not going to fix it. Thane, I don't suppose Fluffle is mechanically minded?”

A horse snorted in amusement. "Silliness does not always imply mechanical influence, although the reverse is often true," chuckled a rich baritone. "Although, she is communicating with him a lot more than I thought. I have convened with her roleplayer and she has passed on messages from me directly to Fluffle's mind. Surely your department is capable of doing the same?"

Fluffle? Meta was talking to someone about Fluffle?

“Capable, yes,” the woman – who must be Obscura – said in reply to Thane, “but not allowed. Plot Non-Derailment Division wants a thousand forms before delivering direct messages, and they’ll have us out on our tails in the street if we go at this without their permission.”

“Must be nice to freelance,” Meta remarked.

Thane blew his lips in ever-so-slight irritation. "Being the head of Pony Heaven (R)'s Recovery and Returns section may be freelancing to you, but freelancing and owning a portion of the company are as different as Gen 3 ponies and Gen 4 ponies. Metastophelous, aren't you just cranky because you're stuck in a dead-end (pun intended) job?" Thane teased with a hint of a whinny at the end of the word job.

“It beats working the basement level.” Some keys tapped and Meta let out a surprisingly animal-like growl. “Obscura, can we tell Item Department to back off? They’re updating the parameters every two seconds, I’m trying to run a scan on the town here!”

“I can request, but you know it’ll take time. Make do. I’m more concerned with the revenant – what’s the progress on that?”

"I can't quite locate her, but I'm setting up a perimeter. With that injury, she can't be moving fast." Thane whinnied. "I didn't think my little pony had it in her." A slow but fierce flapping of what sounded like large wings filled Mick's head. "Do either of you get the feeling that someone is eavesdropping?"

"Thane, you're paranoid, Purgatory Inc's got some of the most soundproof, roleplayer proof, character proof facilities in the afterworld. Plus great flood insurance.

"Back to the topic at hand; the prose suggests they're heading to the archives. Bad idea for a lot of reasons, none of which Micky's considered, I'm sure; if we don't have much material on revenants, how much help is a mortal library gonna be; the archives are Diana's pet project; and oh, yeah, all the fighting’s at Net's No Waffles! Although I guess the kid's head was a little addled from his adventures with the revenant," Meta admitted grudgingly.

…The archives? Diana’s turf? That was where Fluffle was going? They needed information on revenants, true, but this could easily get them…

Okay, maybe not killed, though Mick was starting to doubt his own invulnerability – the point was, they were supposed to be avoiding Diana!

Thane nickered. "Now Metastophelous, you mustn't underestimate mortal libraries. Why, just the other day I snuck into a young alicorn's stash of books and found the ultimate secrets for muffin-making. To this day, though, I cannot locate the book."

“A book?” Meta muttered. “That might be a good way to get the kid a message…”

There was a noise like a door being closed, and the woman snapped, “We should talk about this in my office – we’re disturbing the others.”

"That pony is going to be destroyed by the book if she tampers with it much longer…"

The voices and miscellaneous sounds of stirring people faded as if Mick were racing away from them, and he realized he could feel Fluffle’s fur again. …Quite a lot of Fluffle’s fur, actually. Mick opened his eyes fully, trying to get his bearings. He could only see a blue carpet-like covering around him, only much...softer...

Oh. That explained a lot.

Being in Fluffle's fur was intoxicatingly soothing, easing the fever by a degree or two. It was tempting to stay buried there, but they were in Diana’s archives…and if the conversation in his head wasn't mistaken about "the prose," the pony was looking for a book about revenants. Mick heard the sound of a book being pulled from a shelf, and then a barely contained yelp--was she crying?

Mick sat bolt upright. His stomach should have squeezed – Fluffle was panting heavily with a bit of a whimper at the end of each unnecessary breath. She was crying! Touching the book--did it have the same effect on her as Diana had on him? The pain he experienced when he passed through Diana twice didn't go to waste. Mick deserved it, for the lives he had destroyed--he was put in purgatory after all. But Fluffle...from what he could gather from the conversation, she was supposed to go to some sort of pony heaven instead. Why, then, had she stayed here, suffering for him and her town[/i]? Despite his weakness, Mick wished he could hold the book for her in her stead. There was no absence of a tightening chest; he literally ached for her.

Suddenly he remembered; "That pony is going to be destroyed by the book if she tampers with it much longer."

Eyes going wide with apprehension, Mick grabbed her shoulder. "Fluff, wait--"

Mick saw the word ‘revenant’ just before the book started to tremble. Fluffle dropped the book, but scooped it up again to shove it back into place on the shelf. Unexpectedly, it started to scream. Mick felt an absence of an adrenaline jolt.

As Fluffle hurried around the library, Mick floated up off her back and shot to the book, yanking it off the shelf. He braced himself for a burn, but to his surprise, he only felt a dull heat radiate from the book, rather like holding a pan handle through an oven mitt. …Maybe he was already overheated from phasing through Diana?

The book stopped screaming. In fact, it fell open in Mick’s hands to a page in the M section.

Metastophelous. A Purgatory, Inc employee.

About time!

Head back to Nets, No Waffles. Got a few items I’m keeping an eye on.

I won’t bend the rules for you again, kid. Count yourself lucky.

One last thing – my form for your dual-visibility just got approved. Enjoy dealing with the living again!

Dual-visibility? A sudden shudder raced down Mick’s spine; he didn’t look or feel any different, but as a ghost, it wasn’t as if he’d be able to tell whether or not a living person could see him.

Shaking it off, Mick urged, “Fluff, we need to go back to Nets, No Waffles, Meta’s…” He trailed off, frowning. “…I still haven’t told you any of what’s going on.” Mick was astonished; Fluffle had helped him fight Diana twice, saved his life with the arrow, carried and guarded him when he was too weak to even float, followed him in pursuing a scream…all without so much as one inquisitive raspberry? Even Mick wasn’t stupid enough to miss that something was happening between them, but he was mystified at what the pony saw in him. Maybe the previous day’s...adventure…

Could explain it, Mick thought. She doesn’t know there’s anything in this for me. She doesn’t know I’ve had so much help from Meta.” He felt a swell of sadness and not a little fear at the thought of telling Fluffle he was in purgatory, at the thought of her face falling when she realized Mick wasn’t the person she’d probably built of him in her head.

But he had to tell her. Greater than Mick’s fear of failing her was the fear that she might be hurt – either directly by some lack of knowledge, or emotionally if she found out the truth some other way. Some part of him hoped that maybe things wouldn’t change…but he couldn’t see how.

Tucking the book under his arm, Mick said, “I’m sorry, Fluff. Let’s…let’s get out of here, and I’ll explain on the way.”

[Gelquie]

Julie could only stare at the ghostly woman, taking all that she said in. She said that she's had experience with this sort of thing before. But what could...? Could it have been the situation at Netwaffle that she's heard stories about? Or was it something else entirely? How many other towns could possibly have a situation similar to this?

“And about that murderer...I can help you with that situation. I just need you to tell me anything you might know about the last mafioso.” She paused. “Or that Diana person; she’s of significant interest to me, too, now that I think about it.”

She grinned. “Because I have a message for the Mafia.”

Julie could only sit there, frozen to the spot. There was something about her voice that she really didn't trust. Not to mention the fact that she didn't say the murderer was a mafioso exactly. So how could she know...?

It seemed Julie wasn't the only one who was at a loss for words. Crystal and Mr. Bell could only stare at the woman, puzzled and confused. Julie thought for a moment before clearing her throat nervously.

"Look, I don't know who the last mafioso is, not for sure," Julie said. "And I-I haven't seen Diana since last night. Not since she--"

Any other words she was going to say were completely lost as she saw the visage of Diana appear behind the woman and come closer. Julie immediately backed up to the wall, wide-eyed. Meanwhile, Crystal and Mr. Bell had begun to back away, their fingers still through the net, never taking their eyes off the two ghosts.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear, isn't that how the old saying goes?" Diana asked the woman. "I would offer you my hand but it has been proven to hurt other ghosts. What was your message?"

Julie breathed quietly, unable to move, only listening and staring at the two ghosts. As much as she wanted to sing a song to herself, she didn't dare want to interrupt them.

So she settled with a mental melody. It wasn't the same, but it was better than nothing.

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

Nets, No Waffles was a bloodbath--and that was saying something, considering the amount of blood shed these past few days that was far more than enough to fill a bath.

Fluffle grew uneasy, and it wasn't just the talk Mick had had with her. She knew she was too stupid to not realize that he was from purgatory or some other hellish place, but did he really have to go back? And Meta sounded a bit like a jerk, from what she heard. For a few hundred years, she wouldn't see her valiant waiter--who'd saved her more than once--but what about after the sentence? Speaking would be convenient, but Fluffle couldn't say anything, not because her throat was freezing up, but because she simply couldn't find the words to say. Would it be inappropriate to voice how she felt about defending Wafflenet with him or simply being around him?

And there was a bloodbath. Fluffle, without wanting to, shifted her mind away from her not-so-weak rider, who had both the guts and the power to carry that fiery book with him. Maybe purgatory had its advantages.

There, by the gallows, floated Diana, chatting up another dangerous-looking apparition. Everywhere else, there was fighting going on. Tracy had her shovel, Blaze was tending to her wolves, a giant flock of birds, though diminishing slightly, was taking fire and attacking the lawmen...

Wow. Wafflenet got busy when the time called for it.

Fluffle crept away from Diana and the more experienced-looking ghost to battle. Concentrating on channeling her particles toward her teeth (and removing some from her back in the process), Fluffle chomped on a nearby assailant's arm. She grinned. She could not be shot or stabbed. It paid to not be corporeal!

Fluffle glanced at Mick. She swore she would protect him this time.

Now all those malevolent-looking ghosts had to do was not...turn...around...

[Avery]

It was a brutal battle, with casualties on both sides.

Lawmen, slashed with fishing hooks and knives, sprawled prone and bloody on the street, their guts leaking out, their arteries slashed; several townspeople, struck by bullets, writhed in pain as their fellow citizens attempted to slow the bleeding with makeshift tourniquets. Sparky Drama O'Llama was knocked out cold by a lawman's nightstick and twitched, unconscious, in the middle of the town square.

Even those who weren't mortally wounded still suffered injuries: a slashed arm here, a bullet-grazed cheek there. The lawmen spared no one, and the town returned the favor.

It was a state of total war.

The woman called Blaze Wolfstorm fought alongside her fellow townspeople, but as the battle stretched on and on with no sign of letting up, she got a sick feeling in her stomach. As she alternately slashed at lawmen and tended to her wounded wolves, it dawned upon her that, in a way, this was her fault. Her wolves were getting hurt because of something she could have prevented. True, she hadn't invited the lawmen in. But they were only here because of the bodies in the freezer, the ones that Err Bear had discovered and in turn had led to the daisy-chaining and Monica running off for reinforcements. And why were there bodies at all? Because of the murders. All of murders, the executions... and Blaze could have prevented most of them.

As she tried to staunch the bleeding paw of one of her wolf pups, Finnick, Blaze glanced out at the warring mass of people. Her eyes settled on one particular woman. For a few moments, Blaze simply watched the woman fight, observing as she knocked down a lawman who was about to fire a bullet at Chet Flash. Blaze clenched her teeth. Her stomach twisted. What a farce it was, this woman protecting Chet Flash when, Blaze knew, it was only a matter of luck that Chet was still alive in the first place. That this woman hadn't killed him long ago, when she and cronies killed the Salesman. Killed him as Blaze watched on, horrified. She'd just been walking by, minding her own business, when the sound of someone pleading-- "Please, please, don't!"-- caught her attention as she passed the alley between Waffles, No Nets and the general store. She'd glanced towards the voice just in time for a gunshot to ring out.

Blaze was only thinking of self-preservation then: she scrambled to the nearest hiding place behind one of the tall lampposts the dotted the town centre. And then stood there, frozen and terrified, as four people emerged from the alley. She recognized them instantly. She held her breath, afraid to make even the smallest of noises, until they'd gone away. And then, shaking from head to toe, Blaze tip-toed into the alley.

She gently prodded the Salesman's body. Checked for a pulse, for any sign of life. But there was nothing.

Blaze knew she had a choice then: she could report what-- and who-- she'd seen... or... or... she could say nothing. Her first instinct was to sound the alarms, let it be known what she had witnessed. But then Blaze reconsidered. She was, after all, known around the town as a paranoid survival freak. She kept a pack of wolves in a place where most people subsisted on tending livestock, and due to several uh, wolf excursions, over the years, ones that had led to chewed up sheep and cows, she wasn't particularly well-liked by the citizens of Wafflenet. So if she came out screaming the names of the killers... would anyone really believe her? Or would they say this "witnessing" of the Salesman's death was another one of her "delusions", and that Blaze was simply making up names? And if no one believed she'd seen the Salesman die, and thus refused to arrest the killers, then Blaze knew the murderers would come after her next. And if she was gone, who would care for her wolves?

So Blaze stayed silent. Even as the murders progressed, she hadn't spilled the beans. There were time she grew close, of course. So many times. But then the town actually started hanging the killers! And Blaze figured... if the citizens would take care of the mafia themselves, then why should she speak? Why risk herself?

But now, as the battle raged fierce and bloody, Blaze knew that the time for this sort of thinking had to end. She'd been a coward long enough.

Now, it was time to speak.

She waited for a brief lull in the battle before darting over to the gallows. Then, with nimble feet and hands, she climbed up, up, up until she was perched on the top. She didn't like being up so high, but she needed the height for visibility. So that her shouts weren't lost in the clamor of battle.

She yelled out: "I HAVE STAYED QUIET FOR SO LONG! BUT NOW IT IS TIME TO TALK! I SAW THE MURDER THAT FATEFUL NIGHT, THE VERY FIRST ONE, WHEN THE SALESMAN DIED! I SAW THE KILLERS, I SAW THEM ALL! MICK, OF COURSE. AND DIANA PALLADA AND DON DAN. BUT I SAW THE LAST ONE AS WELL. AND SHE'S FIGHTING HERE RIGHT NOW, PRETENDING TO BE YOUR FRIEND! BUT SHE IS NOT YOUR FRIEND! JULIE MERLOT IS NOT YOUR FRIEND!"

Blaze's shouting had temporarily stilled the chaos in the town centre. Lawmen and citizens of Wafflenet both stood there in a sudden silence, gaping at the screaming lady on the gallows. And then, the townspeople scanned the crowd, looking for the woman Blaze had accused.

At first, Julie Merlot sputtered a denial. Claimed that, no, it was not she, but actually Blaze who was in the mafia, and this was merely her tactic to kill off more of the town! But there was a certain falseness to her words all of a sudden. A sheen of sweat on her brow. And-- perhaps most damning of all-- she kept subconsciously flitting her glance to the ghost of Diana Pallada, who hovered nearby, as if silently begging the revenant to help her.

"LET'S HANG HER!" Blaze continued. "LET'S HANG HER, AND END THE MAFIA! AND THEN ONCE SHE'S DEAD, THE ONLY THING WE WILL HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT IS THE LAWMEN! AND ONCE WE BEAT THEM, OUR TOWN WILL BE PEACEFUL ONCE MORE!"

Julie gave a vicious fight as she was strung up on the gallows. The lawmen-- being, obviously, men of the law-- tried to stop the vigilante hanging, but were beaten back by the adrenaline-pumped, bloodthirsty crowd. So instead, they could merely watch as the last mafioso hanged.

Julie Merlot was a MAFIA MEMBER.
Blaze Wolfstorm is the WITNESS.

Congratulations, town! You've defeated the mafia! But it's not over yet: you still must fight off the lawmen. So keep battling, huh?

SPOILER: Click to show

It was clear from a young age that Julie had a keen ear, one that turned out to serve her well in music. And so her musical skills were encouraged, and she was soon considered a prodigy. But with a keen ear came keen observational skills. Keen enough to spot the dark sides of each little thing despite the otherwise pleasant atmosphere in the town. It was the kind of thing that her parents would dismiss. But it was also the kind of thing that just made Julie more and more curious until she began to investigate these things herself. The further she got into dark dealings, the more her grades suffered, the less she cared about any other area except for her music. Her parents expressed concerns, but she no longer cared. She was learning the ropes quickly, and she knew she had a future in the Underworld. After all, her musical passions definitely couldn't pay for themselves, not with what she wanted to play.

When she was of age, she left as soon as she could so that she could continue her work away from the prying eyes of her parents, who were starting to become suspicious. She worked her way up among the city criminals, mostly working in matters of extortion, or really any sort of deal that could get her money. She still continued her study in music; aside from her enjoyment of it, her honest job as a minstrel serves as a good way to hear things. And who would ever suspect a naïve singing minstrel girl?

After something happened that was too close to home, she decided to move away to the country town. She was originally going to travel by Netwaffle under the guise of creating a composition, hoping to hear from the Mafia members there for their stories and ideas. She took a wrong turn and ended up in Wafflenet, but she quickly noted its idyllic, peaceful, and oh-so-naive nature. Perfect for her musical passions, and perfect for performing crimes under the radar. She quickly set herself up in town, and was pleased to soon discover the presence of the local crime boss, with whom she teamed up. And with the plans they have for Wafflenet, Julie was sure that she could make a story that was truly worthy of song.

SPOILER: Click to show

This round will be up for approximately 2-3 more days. Then, I'll post an epilogue round that'll take place sometime in the futue (e.g., six months later). Thanks so much for making this mafia awesome! AND CONGRATS ON WINNING, TOWN!

[Stal]

"Stallary Duff dolls.... Anyone? Anyone?"

[Gelquie]

And then everything fell apart, from the very moment that blasted woman had climbed those gallows and blurted out her confession to the entire town. And to think that her comrades didn't agree to kill her as soon as they could. She had almost had them all, even after all of this trouble. If it weren't for her...

And yet despite everything, Julie could only feel an intense fear as she felt the rope being slid around her neck. No, no, no! Not like this! The blood in her fingertips surged, her heart pounded, her hands were burning as she felt warmer... All those feelings. All of those feelings of being alive would be gone. Gone like the rest of her mafiosos. Her friends.

Her best friend...

"I'm sorry, I've failed..." Julie thought. She then began humming one more song, one last song as she felt the floor below her collapse, and as she felt herself fall.

At least she would die with a song in her breath.

*~*~*

It was dark. So very, very dark. And for a moment, there was nothing to be felt except for the absence of Julie's own heartbeat.

Then it got colder... Much colder... And yet it was even more off-putting when she found herself inside a theater. Except the stage was huge, and there were more instruments than Julie could ever imagine being in a room at one time. She wasn't alone, though; there were all sorts of misty beings, both in their seats and on the stage, none with any distinct detail; just apparitions. And it looked like the figures on stage were getting ready to move to their instruments. There was a long silence as they each took their positions and a strangely more-corporeal conductor lifted his baton. Then his arms fell and the piece began...

Julie quickly covered her ears. It was the most atrocious piece of work she had ever heard. The sound was unbalanced, the instruments were so very out of tune, and the piece they were playing was just random notes strung together as if they were toddlers tapping on xylophones. It was the worst piece of music Julie had ever heard.

"STOP!" she yelled, running up to the stage. All the eyes in the audience stared at her as she took her place. Perhaps if they couldn't play well, she could at least teach them. She was fairly good at playing music herself. She always had been. And in the meantime, she could show them how it's done.

"I-I'd like to play a little piece of my own..." Julie said. She paused to let this sink in before she began strumming her mandolin.

She couldn't even get to the lyrical part of the song before the misty crowd started booing her, and throwing was seemed to be misty fliers in her direction. She could no longer hear herself over the crowd, and she was forced to stop. Could they not listen well either?

"Ah, I'm afraid you're not going to be popular here, Julie Merlot."

Julie turned towards the sound of the voice. It was from the conductor. He looked to be much like a normal man, except for the misty eyes and the wisps of smoke that slowly came from his ears.

"Do you know what this place is, young nightingale?" the stranger asked.

Julie folded her arms. "Hell. A hell for me, at least."

"Ah, so self-centered. Yes, this is a hell that has been constructed. But it isn't just for you. Why bother with a personal hell when it makes someone like you feel so important?"

The conductor waved his arms over the whole crowd, who began to look fainter.

"They were once dead mortals, beings like you. Humans who didn't give a thought to who they killed. Only cared for the passion, the glory. And oftentimes music. Of course, not all were as talented as yourself, but some were." The conductor grinned. "That is, until this place finally drove them completely mad, and they did whatever they could to fit into this place. Even if it meant forsaking everything they knew and loved." He smirked at Julie. "Just. As will happen. To YOU."

Julie was silent for a moment before she let out a disgruntled sigh. "By telling me this, aren't you just going to prevent it from happening?"

"Oh, it often doesn't make a difference in the end," the conductor said. "Although of course, it does mean you'll last longer. Which means you'll suffer longer. Much to our pleasure to see a murderer like you suffer."

"You just admitted to taking pleasure from just the same things I've been doing," Julie scoffed. "Except you seem to be at the head of the crowd. The one who runs all this. The one who knows how to not go mad from this place. This place, which you implied is just one construction. Which means there's more out there. Run by some hypocrite who enjoys suffering as much as people like me do, but sits on a pile of gold instead of getting poked by pitchforks."

Julie walked up to the conductor and grabbed his tie. "So if I really tried, what's stopping me from leaving, and then working my way up and taking over this entire realm, so that I may be the one on top to gloat and make this place something a little more honest than you think it is? I have all of eternity. But I can very well start with you."

With that, Julie suddenly grabbed the conductor's arm and twisted it, forcing the conductor to turn around in a position before Julie slammed her foot down on his back. She then reached into her sleeve and pulled out what seemed to be a cord, which she used to bring tightly around his neck. The mists did nothing, only stared at the conductor blankly.

"Conductors have never put up very much of a fight," Julie said bluntly. "Not that musicians do either, but spend enough time in criminal rings, and you pick up a few tricks. Now, unless you have something more to say that might change my mind, such as, oh, a way to take care of unfinished business in the realm of the living, I really want to see if I can kill a spirit like you. And if not..." Julie let out a smirk. "Then I'm sure I could make the sound of your screams overcome even this cacophony."

The conductor gagged. "I'll talk!" He managed to get out. Julie did not take off her foot, but she loosened the cord somewhat, enough to allow the conductor to talk coherently.

"I-I could try to find a way to bring you back as a ghost," he sputtered. "You wouldn't be the only one in the town you're from. For you, it's normally only reserved for repentant ghosts, and then there's this ghost quota thaKLAK!"

"I'm sure you can make an exception for me," Julie said, glowering. "You know, in your own best interests. And that of your higher-ups. After all, what would be worse for you? Another 'evil' spirit floating around up there, or me torturing you for all eternity?"

"You can't possibly find this fun for all of eter--"

"Why not? You do. And besides, I've had a very bad day today, people have made me very angry, and you're the only one I can reach right now. I need a way to have fun, because I'm not going to stop being mad at the one who killed me and my friends. Trust me, I really could do this for all eternity."

Julie leaned forward to whisper into the conductor's ears. "Now here's what you're going to do. You're going to send me right back there, back to the town. And you're going to do something special for me. I'm going to tell you exactly how I want to come back, and then you'll send me. If you do that, you'll keep your precious orchestra, and you'll never have to see me again."

"I... Okay. I can try," the conductor said, defeated. "But the ghost quota..."

"Oh, don't you worry about the ghost quota." Julie let out a sinister smile. "Consider that already taken care of."

*~*~*

The train whistled as it finally settled in the Wafflenet train station, the passengers oblivious to the battle going on further into the town. Inside the train was a man, who wore greenish-tan garments and carried a strange object with him, somewhat similar to a gun, but bigger and clunkier. The man looked forlorn and tired, and was staring at two things he had in his hand in front of him. One of the things in his hand was a portrait, of himself with his wife and his five beaming kids, the oldest who was only 10. In that same hand, and behind the small portrait, was a letter.

Salutations, Steven "Buster" Pirit,

I'm contacting you because you seem to be in the business of hunting down ghosts, particularly those who are a menace to the land. The town in which I live is particularly plagued with spirits right now. For the sake of me and my family, these spirits should not persist the way they are, even if you can only banish them.

I also understand that you still owe us a heavy debt, one which you have tried to run from. Normally, people like yourself would be hunted down and executed in order to repay us. But we have decided to give you one opportunity. One last chance. You are to come to the village of Wafflenet, and you will eliminate all the ghosts in the town except for the ones I have listed here and if I tell you otherwise.

You must spare these ghosts:
-Antimony Parsimony Alimony
-Diana Pallada, should she fall
-Don Dan Maphia, should he fall
-myself, should I fall

The remaining ghosts in the town must be eliminated. I can give you a more concise list once you arrive.

I am sure I do not need to tell you what will happen to you should you fail or choose not to arrive. Nor can I guarantee your family's safety should you choose to betray us, disobey these orders in any fashion, or mention any of this to anyone, including our names. It's been proven that ghosts can and do influence the living world, after all, and there are enough of us to stop you if you prove yourself foolish. Should you succeed and follow my orders to the letter, however, your debt will be wiped, and you will come away with enough fortune to support your family, and you will only need to keep your mouth shut.

Enclosed are train tickets to Wafflenet. It should take you to us as quickly as possible. Do not abuse our generosity.

Go immediately.

~J.M.

Buster had read the letter over and over again before he finally sighed, stowed the letter and picture away, and sat up. He began clicking a few buttons on his weapon before he moved out of the train and onto the platform.

"Best to get it over with," he thought.

He put on a brave face and walked forward, looking around for the first sign of any ghost.

*~*~*

Tanya sighed as she watched the last of the Mafia members fall. She hadn't been fond of all the bloodshed, the carnage, everything that had happened. But at least they caught the last of the mafiosos that had plagued the town and their very own diner. ...Still, she knew it wasn't the end. Diana was quite quick to make sure of that. And she was sure that Diana wouldn't stop giving her a hard time.

She took one last look back at the town. She had had so many memories here. She grew up here, had a life here, had a good job... But even in ghosthood, it wasn't safe. Perhaps it could be one day. But right now, she could use a break. And perhaps this was her chance to explore the countryside, see the sights, like she always wanted. So she began to float away.

She was just nearing the train station when she felt something tug at her tail, and she turned around. Failing to see anyone, she turned around and saw a man, pointing a gun straight at her, a strange beam holding her in place. Tanya struggled and tried to get herself free, but found that she couldn't budge. She looked wide-eyed in fear at the man. She couldn't read what his face was saying, but there was a prominent frown, there.

"Your name?" the man asked.

"T-tanya," she said warily.

There was a moment of silence before the man sighed.

"I'm sorry," was all he said before he pressed a button.

Something rushed all over her non-corporeal being. Something forceful, fast, strong, and painful. She tried to dart away, but found that her movement was slowed, and the unsmiling man only kept his aim at her. This went on for some time before Tanya let out a final scream and disappeared.

Buster shut his eyes tight for a long moment before he turned, continuing on to the town.

"I have no choice," the man thought to himself. "I have no choice..."

((Tl;dr: Julie has hired what's pretty much a ghostbuster to try to get rid of all the ghosts in the town except for her precious friends. =D Because it'd be way too much work for me and another person to do alone, we're going to make Buster an NPC. So you can control him to make your battles with him easier.))

[Avery]

Stab-stab-slash-stab. Brit was like, a lawman fighting machine! Whoo! She felt so zoned in, and just like, awesome! GURL POWER! Then she turned and noticed a ghosty cow following her. Which would have like, terrified the old Brit. But this new Brit understood that this like, imagined cow was just her mind's way of saying that she'd overcome all her fears and was so strong now! STAB STAB STAB!

... then Yelly ascended the gallows and announced that she'd like, witnessed the salesguy's murder. This gave Brit pause. Um, what!? So Yelly had known ALL ALONG and said nothing!? Jeesh! On like, the one hand, if Yelly was telling the truth and Julie was super guilty and they hanged Julie, everything would go back to non-death-like in Wafflenet. On the other hand... what kind of crazy person knew about mass murderers and said like, nothing!? Gawsh! Snuggles and Brit could have like, died while Yelly stayed (for once) quiet!

So even though Brit was like, not against hanging Julie if that meant the end of the mafia, she was TOTES not ok with letting Yelly gloat in having foiled the mafia! So after Julie died, and the battle recommenced, Brit SLASH SLASH STABBED her way over to near Yelly. After all, Brit was a FIERCE gurl now and like, Yelly needed to hear what she had to say!

"Hey!" she called over the clamor of gunshots and screaming. "Like, why on earth would you think it's like, okay to not report what you like, witnessed!? Jeesh! PEOPLE DIED! I COULD HAVE DIED! ME! LIKE, GAWSH! You're almost as bad as the mafia!"

[Terra]

Before the execution...

"Look, I don't know who the last mafioso is, not for sure," Julie said. "And I-I haven't seen Diana since last night. Not since she--"

Julie suddenly stopped talking as Terra felt a light (but painfully warm to the touch) tap on the shoulder. She turned to see the bright red spirit of a bespectacled woman smiling at her.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear, isn't that how the old saying goes?" she asked Terra. "I would offer you my hand but it has been proven to hurt other ghosts. What was your message?"

Terra smiled back at her, cool but polite. “Yes, I’ve heard you have quite a devil’s reputation around here,” she said. “I think it’s safe to assume we both know who we are; I’m quite aware of the research you had been doing before your unfortunate death. My sympathies for that, by the way; I know how unpleasant lynchings can be from firsthand experience.

“But anyway, I’ll cut to the chase. This is my message: You aren’t going to win.”

Terra dropped all pretense of politeness; her eyes blazed with fury and her fists clenched.

“You say you were studying the similarities between the events in our two hometowns? The truth is that the Wafflenet killings were a complete rip-off of the murders in Netwaffle! It was pure plagiarism, and not even quality plagiarism, at that. You utterly failed to improve our methods in any way, and because of that, you’re on the road to failing just as miserably as I admit we did. You’re nothing more than pale imitations of a flawed original. You don’t deserve to win. And for that, I will destroy you.”

She abruptly smiled angelically.

“Unless,” she said, “you tell me exactly how you gained the ability to kill living beings.”

She contemplatively pulled her knife from her pocket and began to run her finger along the edge of the blade.

“I’ve learned a lot about being a ghost since I died, but that is one barrier I’ve never managed to break down. Indeed, I believed it was impossible of all spirits - until now. But if you can show me how I can gain this miraculous ability of yours, I might just spare you and your little friend.”

She glanced at Julie, smirking, then looked back at Diana.

“By the way, your secret is safe with me. What fun would it be to tell? - But don’t think I don’t know a killer when I see one.”

She winked. Her knife glinted in the sun.

* * *

After the execution...

CRACK.

Blaze watched as Julie’s neck snapped and her body hung limply on the gallows.

She had often wondered how she’d feel when the killers had all been executed for their crimes; when she confessed her knowledge; when it had all ended. She had thought that perhaps she would feel a sense of relief, or even happiness, knowing that her - and the town’s - suffering was over.

But instead, all she felt was numbness. She had confessed; but what good had it done? So many people were dead - how many? Two dozen? - too many, anyway.

Her enemies had all been hanged, but what difference did it make? Based on the deadly reappearance of Diana’s spirit, the danger showed no signs of stopping.

The lawmen were still here - and would their defeat really signal the return of peace? They could always send more, and more, till the town was brought to its feet.

And her wolves. She’d lost one for sure, possibly more; in any case their pack would never be the same. She had kept the killers’ identities a secret in order to protect them, and she’d failed even at that.

How much did Blaze even care about this town, anyway?

She couldn’t help but feel that, up on the gallows, she’d spouted nothing but empty words, spurred by guilt and desperation. Both of which were certainly justified emotions - and her action in hanging Julie was certainly justified, too.

She just thought that it was far too late.

Britknee, the teenage girl, was yelling at Blaze -

"Hey!" she called over the clamor of gunshots and screaming. "Like, why on earth would you think it's like, okay to not report what you like, witnessed!? Jeesh! PEOPLE DIED! I COULD HAVE DIED! ME! LIKE, GAWSH! You're almost as bad as the mafia!"

“BELIEVE ME,” shouted Blaze. “I FEEL THE EXACT SAME WAY.”

She was drained. She couldn’t bring herself to fight anymore. She walked back toward the gap in the buildings where Primrose still lay; she sat down and began petting the wolf, more to soothe herself than anything; she watched the battle rage on.

What was the point, anymore?

[icon]

It was all going to pieces, all falling apart; Osi felt his mind straining itself to hold the birds together, keep them from collapsing in panic. He was no longer actively willing them to attack the bureaucrats, though a few were doing that of their own volition; now, he wanted nothing more than to keep them together long enough to survive, long enough to stay safe.

On the backskirts of his focus he heard Blaze Wolfstorm yelling; were he inclined, he would have realized that she was revealing the identity of the last Mafia member to the world. No matter, no matter, he had bigger problems; not two days ago he would have jumped at the chance to oust the murderers, but now? He had bigger problems. He shrugged, turned to the problem at hand, pushed his energy into supporting the flock.

* * *

Icon adjusted his tie. He rather liked the tie- sure it was itchy, and a bit uncomfortable if tied wrong, and it left a bit of a lump in his throat. But still, it was a gift, and he'd come to appreciate it. There was no need to worry, he thought as he looked around; this was clearly the epitome of professional attire.

There was a knock at the door. "Er, come in," he said. Those three beams of light flowed through the door; he'd never understood how they could knock on things in the first place. Something to do with "filling out their tangibility forms", they'd said when he asked. Whatever that meant.

"Hey, ladies," he said as he tugged on the tie once more. "Everything all right? Tomorrow's the big day, I assume that everything must be going well for you three-"

"Urgent news, kiddo; Robyn's had to head out to deal with family matters, looked like her cousin was killed. She said she'd be back by tomorrow, but in the meantime she's--"

"Family matters?" He turned around. "That'd be her cousin, then, from Wafflenet. That's right nearby, hardly a few miles as the ghost floats. Completely understandable," he said with a weak grin.

"Also, Miss Snow dropped by too; she's headed to Wafflenet as well, from the looks of it," another one of the lights piped up, though this was a bit less confident.

Wait, Terra was back? That was a different story. "Those two just don't quit, do they? I probably better make sure they don't kill each other. Or anyone else," he added quickly. He was halfway through the door when they heard him say, "I'll be back soon, ladies; thanks for the heads-up."

* * *

Osi's grip on the birds was loosening, he could feel it. They weren't continuing to come in now, which was a bit less strain but still a righteous pain. A couple dozen of them had broken off to go pester Jenkins, and they weren't even intentional. This clearly wasn't working.

The birds were twitching, panicking, fluttering now as they continued their assault on the lawmakers; spectral energy glowed, he heard something screaming as his mind kicked into overdrive. His vision was glowing white-hot, metaphorical needles running through his essence; it was painful, oh gods knew it was painful. But if he let the birds collapse now, it would be over for the town, even though they had already stopped the Mafia.