NTWF Mafia II: The Idyllic Village of Wafflenet

[Gav]

It was time.

Birch had been hunkered down in his office for most of what was going on, purposely having scattered papers (luckily none important) and smashing a few non-essential bottles to make it seem like it had already been ransacked while he hid away and snuck out only for supplies.

But he was tired of all the lawmakers, and he had decided to do something of it.

He rummaged in the bottom left drawer, which he had kept locked from everyone. He had gotten it after an... unsavoury patient had passed out and was carried away, nobody realizing he had left the souvenir till he had closed up for the night. He didn't even think himself capable of using it. The mafia was dead and gone but the little town hadn't stopped the tsunami of terror. Well it was time to drive the intrusions out.

Birch took out a shiny black pistol and a cartridge of bullets.

He snuck out the back door, switching the safety off as he moved slowly behind the rubble to the town square. Best not let anyone know he was there... yet.

[Robyn]

It was, as expected, complete pandemonium.

Robyn and Dove stood in awe, or horror, or a mixture of both, watching the fight unfurl into a barrage of guns and knife blades, screams and wolf howls ringing out in the square. Not to mention the gigantic bird-man-thing that was on its way to becoming an amorphous blob of Hitchcockian proportions. A flock of horribly loud pigeons phased through them both, and Dove nearly pitched herself backwards through a fountain in shock.

"Wow," Robyn murmured, "of all the places in the world that definitely need help, this sure is one of them."

Dove was too busy staring at what was obviously the work of Osilon to reply. What was he doing? Quite a few of the birds jettisoning out of his pseudo-mecha were doing a good job of raking talon and wing against the lawmen, but a troubling number were crashing through windows and into walls, letting out pained squawks and tumbling over broken wings.

This wasn't him. He would never do anything to hurt Wafflenet's birds, not with how creepily obsessed he was with them. But that was definitely his shape-- Dove blinked. She thought she'd seen a blue light in the middle of the throng, shining like a radioactive heart.

"Imoto-chan," she said to Robyn, pointing up at the avian monstrosity, "I'll start by taking care of that. Will you be okay?"

Robyn whistled, impressed. "You always were ambitious! But I guess all of us Byrds are in one way or another. Right! You take that; I'll see what I can do down here!"

Dove nodded and then took off, racing to the edge of the swarm, stopping just short of the fray. It pulsed with an energy that was almost overwhelming, and intermittently through the flurry of feathers, she caught strobelight glances of what was definitely Osilon in the eye of the storm. His face, contorted in pain, teeth grinding, hands strung through hair, afraid...

The tables really had turned, hadn't they. Dove supposed she should have been glad to see her mortal enemy finally experiencing the same kind of torment that she had all those years ago, but the view from the outside looking in wasn't that pretty either, it seemed. The atmosphere around Osilon was becoming more and more unstable; she could practically feel the aether wobbling around his orbit. He was going to level the entire town if she didn't do something.

Dove approached the cyclone of birds, but as she closed in, a panic fluttered through her. The beady eyes and the glinting claws, all just as sharp and shiny as they'd been on that horrible day-- she didn't know if she could face them. Their wingbeats roared. A few more screams echoed from below, more sounds of shattered glass and little crunches, and she almost swore she heard a wracked hiss of agony coming from Osilon (which definitely had to be in her mind...although she guessed it didn't really count as talking? might have just been a stray osprey, but the effect was there).

"No. That's enough. No more running," Dove whispered, "I can do it." She swallowed, nodding. "I can try."

The individual screeches and caws melded into one terrible searing sound. Bracing herself, Dove plunged through the barrier. For a single moment, the passage split everything she knew into dichotomies and archetypes as old as time itself: motion meets noise, human meets animal, life meets death, each and every one now dangling by a tenebrous, starved thread. Then it was over, and she was in.

All the energy Osilon was exerting was throbbing out in waves, growing more erratic by the second. It appeared as if his eyes were screwed shut with the effort, but despite this, light poured out of his goggles in powerful beams, whining slightly. What could have caused all of this? She barely knew what to say.

"Osilon? OSILON," she shouted, her calls drowned out by the birdstorm. "Hey! Do you even hear me? You're wrecking the whole town, you GIGANTIC BAKA!!" This wasn't working. No amount of chastising or name-calling would get to him, and even if she tried to speak kindly, the roar of the swarm would overtake her. No, it wasn't working why was it that every time she tried, as hard as she tried, nothing she thought of ever WORKED--

Something occurred to Dove just then. Call it fate, call it post-humous maturation, call it the author attempting to wedge a semblance of character growth into the last bit of the roleplay, but an epiphany struck Dove Byrd right at that moment, a thought she'd never entertained before now: perhaps she didn't need to know what to say.

Maybe saying anything at all was the problem.

Dove stared at Osilon, weighing her options. She looked past the curtain of frenzy; the town was not faring well at all, and this behemoth was a prominent player in that. Dove sighed and knew she had to do the only thing that would be harder than the gauntlet she just had to run.

Biting back the grudge that had been simmering inside for so long, she rushed him, catching the boy she used to know in a desperate, firm hug, willing her thoughts to travel through the contact.

Come back.

[Tiger]

Telling Fluffle about his particular brand of afterlife was one of the hardest and yet, one of the easiest things Mick had ever done. On the one hand, he hated what he had to explain, hated that there was so much detail, and the pony’s silence made him nervous even if she didn’t seem outwardly angry or betrayed, just…sad. Yet…actually talking had been easy. He’d never stumbled over his words or felt like he had to hold anything back, even the more embarrassing bits, all the things Meta had insulted him for.

But his worries felt small once they reached the town square. There was blood everywhere, townspeople and lawmen and birds and wolves hurt and worse. Mick remembered that the living could see him now and felt a faint brush of claustrophobia. Like his thoughts on telling Fluffle about purgatory, however, that feeling went away the moment he saw a familiar red ghost. His stomach should have gone cold; what he did feel was a certainty heavy as prophecy that he and the revenant would go head-to-head once again. And Diana had a way to hurt Mick much more than he could hurt her – unless the book in Mick’s hands was more valuable than it seemed.

Mick floated off Fluffle’s back as she lunged for one of the lawmen. Another one of the authorities yelped and headed toward the pony; Mick swooped toward him, swinging the thick book into the man’s face. He wished for a split-second that he had a deadlier weapon – but that was a road he shouldn’t be trusted upon.

Instead, Mick fought with the book and his fists and even his tail; he kept his back to Fluffle but kept an eye and ear out for her presence so he could stick close. She must have been doing the same; any time one of them edged one direction, the other was quick to follow, and together they worked through a horde of lawmen. Mick’s heart would have been racing if he still had one – yes, this was terrifying, there were people (and wolves and birds) being hurt and dying, but there was something almost thrilling about being in battle – but beside someone he trusted and someone who wouldn’t murder unless it was absolutely necessary (maybe not even then), instead of the mafiosos, always filled with a sick glee on their way to shoot or stab or poison or…or whatever the fourth mafia member –

Mick completely missed Blaze’s speech in the heat of the fighting, but he couldn’t possibly miss the return of his memories – Julie, strumming her mandolin during their quiet discussions of murder targets, Julie pulling on a string and miming wrapping it around someone’s neck, Julie sticking close to Diana and them sharing those little glances of understanding…

Mick’s distraction bought a lawman time to aim a gun at the ghost. Coming back to his senses, Mick cursed and tried to dodge the bullet – it passed through his tail with a feeling like a bee sting, but to his relief, that was the worst of it. The man shot at him again, jaw twisting like an action movie hero, and Mick was forced to dodge and dart around to avoid bullets. “Fluff, watch out!”

Suddenly, a shovel smacked into the man’s head from behind; the soldier dropped, revealing Tracy Chaetura in an impressive tinfoil helmet and wielding a dirty shovel. Oh. Well.

“Uh, hi, Tracy – “

A squawk of static came from Tracy’s radio, followed by a noise like someone changing the dial too quickly, and finally, the station settled on an all-too-familiar voice. “Did I not tell you to hurry, Angelo!? What on earth were you doing?!”

The radio buzzed with a brief, angry static sound, then Meta said, “Hey, Miss Chaetura – first off, compliments on the fighting, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen anyone wield a shovel like that. Second – hate to ask it of ya, but can you let the stupid kid borrow the radio? He’s got a decent heart buried somewhere under the chicken one, but brain-wise…well, let’s just say I need to give him a hand.”

“Thanks, Meta. I’m really glad I came all this way to find you.”

“Aww, Micky, I’m happy to see you, too!”

(Lizica, feel free to correct me on any details or let me know if I've assumed too much, and I'll edit accordingly! ^^))

[Avery]

"BELIEVE ME. I FEEL THE EXACT SAME WAY," said Blaze before she like, totes moped away to sit with her one of her beasts. Uhh, what? Brit was like, not really expecting that. Slashing at a lawman who suddenly charged at her, Brit then followed Yelly.

"Uhh, hello!?" Brit said. "So like, you're just gonna give up now!? Sit by while your fellow like, townspeople fight and get hurt!? Gawsh! If you really felt bad about not telling us who was in the mafia before now, then like, repent by actions, not just words! Don't sit and like, wallow! Stand up, buck up, and fight!"

Without waiting for Yelly's response, Brit turned and stormed away, back into like, the thick of the battle. Everything was like, still so chaotic-- so much going on. At the fringe of the warring mass, Brit like, spied that Birch guy creeping around with a gun. And still the crazy birds were flapping around and like, wildly attacking and squawking and being super annoying. Gawsh, Brit hoped this battle ended soon! Before like, everyone in the town got all shot up and dead like. That would TOTES suck, to have the mafia ended but everyone still die cos of the lawmen.

"Aiyee!" she shrieked as yet another lawmen came at her. She sliced a gash in his cheek, then stabbed him in the stomach. He double over in pain. Brit smiled, triumphant... until she realized that, though injured, the lawman was not scuttling away. And that was when she saw what was in his hand. What was now pointed right like, at her.

A gun. And his finger was poised over the trigger.

Brit ducked, but it was like, too late. The gun went off, and a bullet lodged in her shoulder. She screamed as the lawman raised his gun once more-- but before he could fire off another shot, like, Chet Flash ran at him and tackled him down. The lawman dude's head hit the cobblestones with a sickening crack, and he like, blacked out-- but not before his gun went off once more, the bullet tearing through Chet Flash's face.

"C-chet!?" Britknee half-yelled, half-cried.

But Chet did not answer. Chet could not answer.

Britknee screamed again as blood continued to pour from shoulder. She could hardly breathe, it hurt so bad. Frantically, she scanned the crowd of people, looking for someone who could help her, but everyone was so caught up in their own sparring that no one came to her aid. Until... she saw Yelly. Dejected Yelly, who'd seemed to have given up. Yelly was still like, spooning with her wolf at the edge of the battle. Removed from the fighting. Brit locked eyes with her.

"Please," she mouthed, knowing Yelly wouldn't be able to hear like, actual words over the din of the battle. "Please."

Then Britknee collapsed to the ground.

[Terra]

"Uhh, hello!?" Brit said. "So like, you're just gonna give up now!? Sit by while your fellow like, townspeople fight and get hurt!? Gawsh! If you really felt bad about not telling us who was in the mafia before now, then like, repent by actions, not just words! Don't sit and like, wallow! Stand up, buck up, and fight!"

Blaze grimaced. Britknee had a point.

She didn’t really have any excuse for her inaction. She’d been a coward - she still was a coward - and it resulted in nothing but the deaths of everyone around her. But she still wasn’t sure that killing the lawmen was the solution here (though admittedly she couldn’t think of a better plan at this point).

And besides, she was tired.

Tired of worrying. Tired of thinking, of attempting to strategize, of trying to figure out how much she could say. Of thinking about her wolves, her family - her human family, Annabel with whom she’d managed to have her first civil interactions in years somehow. Of seeing her fellow townspeople and knowing that she had the knowledge needed to stop it, but not knowing whether anyone would trust her. Of fearing for her life, day in and day out, every waking hour and quite a few of those not.

Was it any wonder that she wanted to give up? It wouldn’t solve anything, but it’d certainly be a whole lot easier.

Blaze was just beginning to contemplate running away into the woods when Britknee screamed.

She stared, frozen in place, watching as blood spurted from the teenage girl’s shoulder. She was paralyzed by horror as Chet was subsequently shot in what was obviously a fatal blow. It was as if Blaze’s thoughts had ground to a halt -

Until Britknee turned to her and mouthed, ”Please. Please.”

Somehow, the plea for help spurred Blaze to move. She grabbed her backpack and shot to her feet, running forward as Britknee collapsed. She dragged Britknee out of the center of battle, dropped to her knees, and did her best to bandage the wound. It wasn’t as easy as a simple limb wound, but with a lot of wrapping of the bandages, Blaze managed it; it seemed that the bleeding had stopped, anyway.

“YOU OKAY?” said Blaze, shouting over the din as she felt for a pulse (and confirmed that it was still there. Britknee was alive, at least.)

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

Mick didn't horse around. He was able to solidify his hands for a long time and hold the book, Fluffle noticed. She hadn't quite been in trouble, as the bullets had passed through her. Morons. Did these lawmen think they could really attack non-corporeal beings with tangible weapons? Then again, she had eaten a nice book about a creature like her being torn by a silver bullet. Fluffle's ears flattened as she backed into a building, hoping the man in front of her didn't have a silver bullet in his arsenal. She tried to bite him, but her teeth didn't stay solid for more than a second and she ended up phasing through him.

Just then, Mick jumped in front of the pony with a determined look on his face. He thrust Creatures From Below on the side of the lawman's face, knocking him out cold. The two briefly exchanged glances, confirming each other's thoughts.

Yes. I am okay.

Fluffle marveled at her former rider. He had enough ghostly stamina to keep holding the book, risked himself for her yet again and protected her? He was stronger than she'd thought, even after seeing him lift a lot of weight.

Mick couldn't really be a bad guy.

If anything, she was a bad pony for stealing from Waffles, No Nets, causing minor forms of panic, and coming dangerously close to biting Mick when her intended target was a swordsman on her left.

As the pony clamped down on another one of Monica's reinforcements, she noticed the shadow of a large wooden structure in front of her.

The gallows weren't vacant.

There hung Julie, her beret on the floor, lifeless.

While it certainly sent chills through the pony seeing her like that, Fluffle was somewhat consoled by the fact that Julie hated her. It was almost understandable: no one liked their precious strings being eaten.

As Fluffle used her great horsey teeth in ways she hadn't dreamed of before the battle, she thought. The ghost had the luxury--most people couldn't think about things in the midst of a battle, for fear of losing their life. Fluffle had lost it quite some time ago, so she really had little more to lose (except her bakery and the lives of those she loved). She just had to be a bit cautious, but she could think. Fluffle thought of her town. Her old town.

Her home in a library. It was cozy, and she couldn't be happier. Her best friend and partner lived with her: they hid out underneath a purple pony's bed, ate doughnuts, snuggled...Other ponies told Fluffle to stay out of trouble, to stop being with "this foul creature." Fluffle always shook her head and clung even tighter to the legs with holes in them. She refused to leave her queen, even though she knew she was evil, even though she knew the queen would try to control Equestria. The queen was content with feeding off of Fluffle's love for her, but the townspeople grew restless. They did not want a threat among them that could stab them in the back at any given moment.

Though Fluffle protested, her voice went unheard. She was destroyed completely. All it took was a newlywed pony couple to make the queen disintegrate, never to be heard from again.

Her Chrys.

Fluffle decided that ponies couldn't be trusted. A voice wasn't necessary, if no one would listen. Ponies didn't deserve her love. But humans?

Humans were different. Wafflenet was different. Both seemed idyllic, happy, and easy to befriend. Rocky and Tracy were a little on the crazy side, but she was comfortable around them especially. Ginz went the extra mile to scratch Fluffle's head if she felt she had exceptional service. It was an auspicious start to her life in Wafflenet.

Stal had been killed by the mafia months later, but Fluffle clung desperately to her belief: humans made mistakes, right? They could not do this to her home, her precious home, filled with more friends than her former pony town. Fluffle belonged in Wafflenet, and Wafflenet was still a town worth defending.

She thought of Mick, curling her hoof, concentrating, and punching an invader in the stomach. Mick was someone she'd liked from the moment she set her eyes on him. Heck, she hadn't been able to look at him without freezing up at least half the time.

When she was in the basement of Waffles, No Nets, she spied him, her vague memory of her death fresh in her head. Even so, she knew in her heart and somewhere in the recesses of her memory, that Mick was not the one who pulled the trigger in the field. It couldn't have been. In any case, it didn't seem like he remembered if he had been her killer. He shared extensive details of his afterlife's journey, and even one or two where she had to hide a smile. Mick had become, in the span of a few days, (which seemed like weeks) someone she looked up to and enjoyed being around. Just like Chrysalis. No, not quite. He wasn't just like her. He was brave, and didn't try to take over a planet.

He was--why, he was right behind her, ever ready to move right when she was. Fluffle had, through her thoughts, been synchronizing with every movement Mick made, stepping in when there was a breach in defense, and drawing back when he was going to attack with that attractive long tail of his. She made sure that neither of their attacks fell on the birds and wolves around them, and he covered her large, fluffy back. Once in a while, their eyes met, and at the same time, both of them would share the faintest glimmer of a smile, knowing they were working with a rarity--something more elusive than pink Himalayan salt for Fluffle's special salt and caramel cupcakes-- trust. For selfish reasons or not, Mick wouldn't hurt anyone, and Fluffle never really liked to fight--except for now. It was an exhilarating experience, perhaps fueled by the occasional pressing need to play tricks.

What she saw next, however, was no trick. A bullet passed through Fluffle, without any effect, but it slowed ever so slightly as it went through Mick. Glancing at him, she saw his face contort just a little bit.

But it was enough.

Fluffle's furry brows furrowed. She charged at the man who fired, and it took surprisingly little effort to solidify her rear hooves, turn around, and slam them into the face of the shooter. He wouldn't be trying that again, Fluffle thought, panting, as he crumpled to the ground.

A devilish grin materialized on her face. No one would get her partner this time. She was so busy being caught up in her victory that...

"Fluff, watch out!"

Mick's voice snapped her back to the present. Turning around, Fluffle saw someone she quickly identified as an enemy, but his weapon was...odd, to say the least.

No matter. Fluffle growled and pulled out her bow and arrow, nocked it as quickly as she could, and tried to channel her ghostly essence into the arrow...

That didn't work. She had stopped mid-draw! And what was that strange yellow beam? Was it holding her in place?

Fluffle looked at the man with giant eyes only an anime artist could pull off. That wasn't nice. He'd ruined her good fun with that suspending gun.

Buster's furrows creased. Animals shouldn't have had ghosts. Boy, was his psychiatrist going to be delighted at all of the visits he'd pay her sometime in the near future. That stupid letter...had he found a way out of his initial dilemma instead of asking the mafia to kill that man...

This ghost seemed relatively intriguing. It didn't matter whether or not he eliminated the ghosts immediately. His family would be safe, and the ghosts would be gone. Buster pushed a button on the gun.

Fluffle felt her hooves gather together, then there was pressure, then more pressure, and such a squeezing force that shoved Fluffle into a tiny jar no taller than a stick of butter...

Fluffle panted and looked around her. Tiny space, not good, tiny space, not good, TINY SPACE! Ponies needed space! She was not just a piece of ghostly meat! Fluffle struggled to move, but, alas, was immobile inside the jar. Her bow and arrow were shoved back into her fluff as she was squeezed through into the jar. Fluffle whimpered, and discovered she retained her voice at her normal volume.

Out of sheer panic, Fluffle did something she hadn't done since she was in Equestria.

The pony let out an inhuman shriek not dissimilar to glass shattering, piercing the air, already dripping with the short-lived screams of victims...

[Lizica]

Tracy was running out of breath. Her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow. Her arms were sore, her leg still dimly hurt, and she was beginning to feel lightheaded from exhaustion.

Julie--dear Julie, who had kindly shared emotive songs, shared her diner booth, and shared her waffle syrup--Julie was hanged. Had she really been colluding with the aliens? Blaze seemed so sure. How could Julie have let this happen to her? Tracy wondered what kind of celestial music of the spheres the diabolical aliens must have bribed the musician with.

But there was little time to dwell on that--bureaucrats surged up after the hanging and fought with renewed ferocity.

Then she just started slamming her shovel at anything in a uniform, especially if the uniform was close to a townsperson. Townsfolk saved her so many times. Pigeons saved her once. They worked together sometimes, but for the most part, all was chaos. There were so many fallen. Those--those despicable, malicious aliens! This--this must be exactly what they'd been working towards for years. The humans, fighting each other, taking each other down! Why, it was easy for the creatures!

But aliens or not, she could NOT let these infuriatingly stupid government goons kill her fellow townspeople. That blasted government for trying to cover up the truth. Those evil aliens for instigating this mess. These stupid lawmen fighting for the wrong side of humanity. She continued shoveling down guns, arms, heads. She thwacked a lawman pointing a gun at Fluffle and Mick--

Wait, what? Fluffle? Dear old Fluffle?

And Mick? Mick, master artiste of waffle toppings?

“Uh, hi, Tracy – “

Pausing at long last to catch her breath, Tracy waved limply with one sore arm and managed a haggard grunt that was supposed to stand in for "hello, are you alright, I am so relieved to see you two, you have no idea, sorry I've been busy knocking sense into lawmen and such, let me catch my breath for an hour or so, is Wafflenet safe from the aliens and bureaucrats yet."

But from her hoodie's pocket, her radio suddenly let loose a shrill warble of static and a zipping noise of changing stations.

“Did I not tell you to hurry, Angelo!?" it cried. "What on earth were you doing?!”

"A-ALIENS!" Tracy's throat shrieked. Wildly, she dropped her shovel to the cobblestones and dug around in her pockets. Her notebook--her notebook--she needed to take this intercepted transmission down, she'd never pick up a signal this crisp ever again--

“Hey, Miss Chaetura – first off, compliments on the fighting, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen anyone wield a shovel like that."

Poised with her pen and notebook (which had by now been soaked and dried and torn beyond all recognition), Tracy froze. Abruptly halted.

The aliens were--

The aliens were--

...They were COMPLIMENTING HER?

"Second – hate to ask it of ya, but can you let the stupid kid borrow the radio? He’s got a decent heart buried somewhere under the chicken one, but brain-wise…well, let’s just say I need to give him a hand.”

Mick talked to the radio.

The radio answered back.

Tracy stared.

Her brain hit a brick wall.

The aliens...had hijacked her radio...and complimented her...and asked her a favor...and affectionately joked with Mick...and moreover...

...They were going to lend him a hand?

The aliens were going to lend them a hand?

The aliens? Help?

The aliens? Compliment?

The aliens? Nice?

The aliens? NOT trying to wreak havoc, destroy brain waves, tear apart her hometown, kill every human being on the planet?

She stared at her radio, her trusty, broken old radio, with its dusty dials, its chipped speakers, its crooked antennae, its water stains, its scratched plastic--

An inhuman shriek suddenly pierced the air, and Tracy's head shot up. What now? What had happened now? What could possibly happen now? Towards the direction of the noise--Fluffle appeared to have been sucked into a--a--...what was that?

Tracy dove for her shovel and thrust her old radio, her dear old radio, towards Mick. Okay. Okay. Please take good care of it. ..Bring it back if you have to fix it.

"H-hey!" she yelled hoarsely at the man. "Hey, buster!" she cried (for once accidentally getting a name correct when not even trying). "Who are you? What are you doing to my friend?" She brandished the shovel. "If you're with the government, you're going down."

"I've been instructed by a separate party to collect this town's ghosts from the premises," said the man in a flat voice.

[Gelquie]

"I told you that you need to bring me back from the dead. So stop lying to me!"

"You need to listen to me, we can't actually do that. And we can't make you into a vampire either. It's just not how it works."

"So I can't be anything like an actual living breathing person again?"

"No, you can't."

"...... Then... Then bring me back as this. Just so I have something."

"...That? Do they need anymore trouble up there?"

"They deserve it. Besides, I have other reasons. Now do it before I change my mind about what I should do with you."

"...I'll get you started."

*~*~*

Julie Merlot's limp body swayed in the center of town, without showing any signs of movement as the warring populace raged around her. For a few minutes, it was just like that.

And then suddenly, a ghostly figure began to come out of her body, a figure in the shape of the Julie, with a ghostly mandolin intact but with a faint purple aura around her hands. She floated in front of her body for a moment before she opened her eyes and observed the warzone around her. It seemed that little had changed to the battlefield since she had left this plane of existence. The townsfolk were still as bloodthirsty and murderous as ever, and the lawmen were just as stubborn and stupid as ever. A part of her wondered whether they would just continue to kill each other off even if she hadn't done anything to them.

But no, some of them were strong. Strong enough to survive this far, anyway. But she wasn't worried about that. She was here to make certain that they wouldn't be before the end. Not after what they had done.

She then floated up further into the air. Oh, she had so many things to do, people to see, people to strangle, but she absolutely couldn't pass up a glorious opportunity before she really got to work. She hovered in place above her and began playing her mandolin. Though it had the usual mandolin sound, it now had a more ghostly tune to it, and there was now something crueller in Julie's tone of voice.

"I return from the fires below
So that I may see these fires here,
But it is so similar a show
It is just like looking in a mirror.

But I know the dull hypocrites here
And I know all the rules of this place,
So to their plights I lend them my ear
So that I can laugh right in their face.

They show such strength in their big battle
But less than the force shown 'gainst their own;
They either went along like cattle
Or they helped strip their town to the bone.

For each one of their own that they kill
They cry 'I'm scared, Something must be done!'
But everyone has murdered at will
The Mafia's not the only one.

Give someone enough of a reason
And they'll kill as proudly as we did,
But for our own we don't do treason,
To those who do, their own death they bid."

She let out a sigh.

"Not like it will matter in the end,
Not after everyone's done with you.
For even more death here will descend
And that is something you won't undo."

She played out one last chord before she stopped, interrupted by an inhuman scream. She turned around in time to see Fluffle caught in Buster's beam. She let out a grin.

"And it seems we've already gotten started," she said, tipping her beret to Buster and giving him a look that said 'keep it up' before turning into 'or else'. With that she floated over as quickly as she could to Diana to see where their conversation had gone. With the huge crowds around Buster who didn't care for him and the fact that ghosts couldn't do much to hurt him, she figured he was safe for now.

But Diana... The strange woman thought she had the gall to try to threaten them both, even if it was for an understandable intent for a fellow murderer like herself. Even though she wasn't really sure what she could do to them; she already pretty much stated that she didn't know how to kill ghosts, but it didn't stop her from likely knowing some good methods of ghostly torture. On the other hand, someone like her could still be a powerful ally, if they played their cards right. And Diana might well be able to say the right thing...

Either way, Julie knew that whatever happened, she would be by Diana's side.

[icon]

Everything was in the birds now, Osi thought; the edges of his consciousness were fraying. The pain of each bird pierced his mind in shrill caws and squawks, almost his entire essence at this point. He could hear a soft-but-dangerous hiss, maturing into a low whine which increased in pitch as he released himself; this was the end. The birds were dying. The town was dying. He was dying, or at least his ghost was losing so much energy that he could hardly hear Dove's call on the edge of the featherstorm until she rushed up and gripped him with a single thought-

Come back.

The words seemed to run straight to the center of his being, sparkplugs with an extra dose of afterlife, shocking him out of his bout of destruction.

He opened his eyes under the goggles.

The force of Dove's battering-ram tackle dragged him backwards, cannonballed the two of them against the wall of wings for a blink of a second before she burst out the other side, clutching his sides and dislodging several birds from the maelstrom.

For a brief moment, the birds stopped squawking.

Then they collectively exhaled, many of them scattering from their prison in a flurry of feathers, battering the bureaucrats and townspeople alike on their way out.

(Not all of the birds left, though; a few stuck around to continue pestering Inspector Jenkins. A couple crows settled on the gallows, where Julie Merlot's body still hung; more would have alighted if there weren't so many goshdarn ghosts around. And one now-slightly disheartened Steven Pirit was attacked by several dozen Splatterbirds, which would later spark in him an irrational fear of weddings, adoptions, and cheesy metahumor.)

Driven on by momentum, he felt Dove carrying him further, always further; it was easier for her to get a grasp on him as he rapidly began to regain his form. Dove slowed down, nearing ground level as Osi tried to get reacquainted with the concept of controlling a single mind, rather than several thousand that all just wanted to peck things. He tried to flash her a weak grin, but his brain was still telling him to tweet, so it came out looking like he was whistling through his teeth; that didn't work. Plan B was to try to raise one hand, give her an o-kay signal-

Only to get a slap to the face. "Nani the hell were you thinking?" Dove yelled as she tried to pin him to the nearest wall. The effect was rather lost since they were both ghosts, but she compensated by shaking his shoulders as she continued her tirade: "You could have killed those birds! You could have killed the townspeople, you could have ruined the entire town! That move was idiotic, it was completely dangerous, it was, it was..." She trailed off, and he didn't quite know how to respond.

Maybe, he thought, there were bigger things in this world than petty rivalries. Like saving lives, and trust, and hope for the future. Dove was clutching him even tighter now; Osi wasn't sure whether it was driven by relief or indignation but, for the time being, he decided to let it go.

[Draco]

Rocky has been in town watching all the chaos. He wasn't sure what to do. This wasn't a very G-Host friendly area right now. That was when the birds dispersed, and Dove pinned Osi. With a grin he floated into the building behind Osi.

---

She was on a mission, she wasn't allowed to blow things up, she was on a mission.

"I'm on a mission. I'm not allowed to blow things up. I'm on a mission. Come on, you can do it. What was I supposed to do again?"

She totally forgot the plan. She looked around and shrugged. She'll figure it out, maybe. As she walked through the town she saw a odd man with a weird thing that was trying to eat that fluffy pony.

"Looks like they're having fun."

She was about to continue to walk, but stopped and looked again. This wasn't right at all. She narrows her eyes and throws several red sticks at the man.

"Hey! What are you doing? Leave that pony alone!"

The sticks sat on the ground hissing as the flames at the end got closer to the red sticks.

---

Cow #3 moo'd at Brit.

"Moo."

---

He watched as a former co-worker and a former... Target... Meet with a girl he hasn't met before. He was ease dropping a bit, he needed new material for a new book and was fresh out of ideas. He was dying for something new to write, real life in this town was getting pretty boring. When he saw they were taking off he decided to go for it. He followed. They never even noticed him! When they arrived in the new town he floated off before they could even notice him.

The first thing he noticed were birds. Lots and lots of birds. With a grin he started to scribble down notes.

"Drake, whatever is going on in this town, it's going to be a good read!"

---

Rocky floated around the building and waited for the perfect moment. When Dove stopped screaming at Osi, he popped a hand out of the wall just next to Osi. He placed (forced) a colored rose into his hand and whispered through the wall.

"Give it to her."

He flew off right after.

He decided he needed to get a easier picture of what was going on, and went to the gallows in the center of town. What better place to be? That's when he spotted Julie's ghost. He flew up to her.

"Oh, purple. It brings out your eyes!"

He looks in the direction of Buster, Fluffle, and his sister.

"Oh, looks like they're having fun."

[Tiger]

Mick was surprised Tracy waved rather than tried to smack him with the shovel. He had been a mafia member. Well, wait, she’d been in Nets, No Waffles when Diana showed up to threaten them, and even though nobody had been able to see Mick (except Osilion) the revenant had called him a traitor by name.

Or maybe in the chaos of the battle, Tracy wasn’t going to bicker with anyone who was helping fight off the authorities.

Tracy’s reaction to the talking radio was actually a lot more practical than Mick had expected. ”A-ALIENS!”
“Uhm…” Mick decided now wasn’t a good time to explain what was going on. What would he say? ‘Oh, that’s not an alien, that’s my snarky, verbally abusive, possibly-a-demon representative from purgatory. Which is a business. Apparently.’ Somehow, he couldn’t imagine that conversation going well…

He heard the strum of a mandolin.

Mick looked up, his heart absent of a sinking sensation at the sight of a purple-handed specter. Julie. What was wrong with all the afterlives, that they weren’t able to actually hold onto the people they were supposed to be punishing? First Diana, now Julie…at least someone had apparently gotten Don Dan and Nora…

More importantly – what did Julie’s purple hands mean? She wasn’t a revenant, it seemed, but Mick didn’t know what to make of a purple-handed ghost. Mick didn’t really want to fly through her to see what happened.

He turned to check on Fluffle, and his eyes landed on a man with a bulky gun leveled right at the pony…but something was wrong, the man knew what he was doing, he wasn’t shooting blindly out of fright like the lawmen – “Fluff! Look out!”

Mick started toward her, but before he’d gone more than an inch, in a flash of yellow the pony was gone, sucked into the gun. He felt like his heard had stopped beating.

Tracy scampered to her feet and shoved the radio at him. Mick caught it more by instinct than intent. The radio squawked and Mick felt some of his ghostly essence leaking into the battered old thing; it took a spectral transparency and an odd yellow-orange hue, sprang out of Mick’s arms, and hovered over his shoulder.

“Kid – that’s a ghost hunter gun!”

Mick was already flying toward the man, the radio jetting after him, alongside Tracy and a girl who looked a little like Rocky. “How do I get her out!?”

“Don’t fly toward him, you can’t do anything inside that box! Get down!” Mick made no move to slow down; the radio slammed down between his shoulder blades and drove them both into and through the cobblestone street.

“Let me go!”

“How are you gonna help the pony if you’re trapped in the same box!?”

“I can’t help her down here! I won’t – “

“Won’t get caught? Yeah, you’re real great at guessing the future! You didn’t think you’d be murdering people, either – just think for a change!”

Mick didn’t want to think – he wanted to lash out – this was Meta’s fault, Tracy’s fault, Diana’s fault, his fault…yes. His fault. If Mick hadn’t gone after Meta and the radio, if he hadn’t been distracted by Julie, if he’d stuck by Fluffle the way she stuck by him, if he hadn’t joined the mafia in the first place –

“We can list your mistakes all day and get no closer to solving anything! You angst so much over what got you into the problem, you never actually focus on solving it! Why don’t you let the past stay in the past and get moving on the future!?”

Rage still seethed inside Mick, warring with a painful despair that made Mick wish for the absence of feeling. What if they couldn’t get Fluffle back? What if the gun wasn’t a trap or a box, what if Fluffle was…

If Fluffle was gone, Mick had failed purgatory already. Whatever his mission had been – this was more important.

“Ghosts are pretty hard to kill, Micky,” Meta said.

Yes…but it was possible. And if Mick’s experience, if that horrible scream, were anything to go by, then they could feel pain. If Fluffle was still alive, then Mick needed to do something to get her out. Fast.

“The living might have to take the reins on this one,” Meta warned. “The way I see this playing out, it’s Pallada and Merlot you’ll need to handle – I’m getting plot alerts saying they might be involved in this guy being here, and they’re not gonna like anyone messing with their plans if that’s true.

“Fine,” Mick said. “If fighting them means saving Fluffle, I’ll do it.”

But first…Mick shot forward a few feet through the ground, poked his eyes out and glanced at the surface, glided forward a few more feet…

He shot out of the ground behind the ghost-hunter, and swung Creatures From Below at his back. He darted back into the ground, wary of being caught in the same trap as Fluffle, but he took a quick look around at the battlefield. Let Diana Pallada and Julie Merlot try to stop him – try to stop anyone – from getting Fluffle out of there. He might be a coward – but he was done running from the mafia.

[Celestial]

Diana raised her eyebrows as Terra suddenly grew very angry. Despite her grudging respect for Terra and her murderous methods as well as the sheer joy of meeting a genuine historical figure, she could not help but feel a little disappointed at Terra's lack of academic thought or thinking beyond Netwaffle at the wider forces which drove this, forces which even Diana could not control but only study.

"Thank you for your sympathy, although my death was not nearly as unpleasant as yours was by accounts. However, to assume that the murders in Wafflenet were a copycat crime is a gross misunderstanding of what has been happening. You fail to see the bigger picture. I have been studying not just Netwaffle and Wafflenet but their relation to the greater historical forces which have created this phenomenon of mafias and drove ordinary townspeople to become cold-blooded killers against their fellow townspeople, both inside the mafia and outside it. These two towns are just one of many and while they are affected by the same forces of this general area, they are also individual entities. The individuals that make up these two towns are different so it is impossible to replicate the Netwaffle murders exactly. Only the initial spark was the same and even so, we spared the town floozy in favour of another target."

AShe adjusted her glasses calmly to break up the speech.

"However, since the two towns are similar and affected by the same historical forces, in order to understand one you may study the other. Only then do patterns and connections emerge and you can trace those patterns to larger forces at work within this region. We are all part of a system that is bigger than ourselves and beyond our control. I sought to understand that system here. We killed in a similar fashion to you because that is how it had to be done, not only because we are both affected by the same forces, problems and other things but I also, personally, wished to simulate Netwaffle here. It was a side-effect but a good one, adding credibility to my research and allowing me to make more credibly, believeable links. In short terms the common man can get, to understand Netwaffle you must understand Wafflenet and to understand Wafflenet you must understand Netwaffle. And I do."

Diana bowed her head having completed her speech. That was the best one yet.

"As for how I kill, it's a lot more straightforward: I made a deal with the devil and came back as a revenant ghost. I spread disease and the ability to phase through people gives me a way to play havoc with their internal organs. On ghosts, my effect is less well understood but-"

She was cut off as Blaze suddenly began shouting and screaming. Diana's heart fell as she implicated Julie, her dear friend. They should have killed her as soon as her idiot wolf began sniffing around. She watched as the townspeople dragged Julie to the gallows and for a moment, she wanted to save her, to let her survive and let them win. She could kill all of them before they could even blink.

And then she stopped herself.

Julie would enjoy being a ghost more. She knew her friend, knew what she was like. They disagreed a lot but that was simply due to Julie's education level. She had the eye for detail that Diana liked and appreciated in a person. And of course, she was bloodthirsty too. They thought alike and so, there was no doubt that, for all of her initial revulsion and fear of death, Julie would grow to like it. Together, she and Diana could be unstoppable.

Nevertheless, she could not watch as her best friend died.

But if things had gone well, Julie had planned for this. They had met before, talked about the ghost exterminator. Judging by the screaming of Fluffle, he was already here. Diana watched and she felt satisfied. It was vengeance for shooting her in the shoulder, for causing her all that pain. And Mick trying to save her was hilarious as well. Even though the book he used, even from here, made her feel odd.

She kept looking around the town square. Blood, the injured and the dying were everywhere. The lawmen and the town had all taken casualities, severe ones in the case of the lawmen. It made her feel quite satisfied to know that not everything had been in vain, that no matter what the town could never recover to its former, pristine glory. They had lost but they had ruined it, just as the mafia had ruined Wafflenet. They could still take their revenge.

Diana looked down at her feet and found a knife. Concentrating, she picked it up and carried it at an awkward angle to the gallows where Julie was swinging. At least Diana's death had been clean. But before she could think about it further, she swung the knive and drove it into the rope. Straining with effort, she worked the blade in until the rope snapped, sending Julie plummeting to the ground.

Then she heard the song and grinned up at Julie. She clapped as her friend returned from the fires of hell, just as she had and hovered up to her, blazing red like a flare.

"Welcome back, my dear friend. It is good to see you again after far too long. What are you supposed to be?" she said to her, smiling pleasantly. She turned back to Terra. "You still want to find out how to kill the living? Perhaps we can show you. I know who exactly to use as a teaching aid," she turned back to Julie. "You know who I'm talking about, right?"

[Avery]

“YOU OKAY?”

This shout brought Britknee back to the world of the living. For a moment, she like, totes forgot how she'd gotten to be sprawled out on the ground, and why her shoulder was hurting soooo bad. And also why she was like, soaked in blood, both hers and Dove Byrd's. Then it came back to her, like a punch to gut, and Britknee let out a pathetic whimper. With a stilted breath, she forced open her eyes and glanced up at...

Blaze. Who was kneeled over her and like, had a finger pressed at Brit's neck to feel for a pulse.

So the wolf lady had come to her rescue! Like, thank gawsh! And next to Blaze, Snuggles had wiggled his way out of Brit's purse and was like, licking at his master's cheek, super concerned. Aww, her puppy wuvved her!!! With great pain, Brit reached out a hand and patted her little puppy on the head.

"You're a good boy," she rasped. Then, to Blaze: "And like, thanks for not letting me die. Now like, I doubt I could be much like, help, but we can't let these stupid law guys win. So here, take my knife." She pressed her blade-- the one that had like, totes been used by Julie to kill Dove-- into Blaze's hand. "Use it to like, kill all those people who are trying to kill us! I'll be like, cheering you on!" Despite the still-horrible pain, Britknee brightened as she added, "Yeah! Like a cheerleader! I'm totes a good cheerleader! Gooo Blaze! Kill those lawmen!"

[Gelquie]

Julie was floating nearby when she suddenly heard Alex approach from behind her.

"Oh, purple. It brings out your eyes!"

She looked down at herself, at both her body and her hands. She hadn't had a chance to look in the mirror to see what she's become, or what exactly the transformation did to her in terms of appearance. She knew that she probably looked mostly human, except for the tail in place of legs and the hands with a purple hue. But she was also this blue-ish ghostly color. Sure she thought that it was likely a good color scheme, but still... It didn't exactly have the same hue as being alive...

Then Alex spoke up again, breaking her out of her reverie. "Oh, looks like they're having fun."

She looked over to where he was talking about before smirking. "Well, some fun is being had. Don't you worry; stick around, and you won't miss out on any of it."

With that, she floated away from him and back to Diana, who had floated closer to her while she was distracted.

"Welcome back, my dear friend. It is good to see you again after far too long. What are you supposed to be?" she said to her, smiling pleasantly. She turned back to Terra. "You still want to find out how to kill the living? Perhaps we can show you. I know who exactly to use as a teaching aid," she turned back to Julie. "You know who I'm talking about, right?"

Julie met Diana with a smile of her own. "It's been too long, Diana. And with all that's been happening, we haven't been able to talk to each other properly." Then she looked down at herself again. "Well... I think I'm sort of like you. A revenant of sorts, but I don't think I have all the same abilities you do. I took up a form that has more of a... liking for blood. I figured it was the best I could extort from that stupid conductor. ...I'll tell you that story later."

Then Julie let out a sinister smile as she reached into her sleeve and played with a hidden bracer below it. "I know just the person."

Suddenly, Julie turned and zoomed towards Blaze with her hands at the forefront. She instinctively closed her eyes as she began to pass through Blaze, her hands creating a feeling equivalent to blood boiling. Once through, she slowed up and opened her eyes before looking over to Blaze.

"Ha, well. We're so sorry that we weren't able to get to you in time," Julie said, mocking a sympathetic look in her face. "Let's make it up to you, shall we? That way you can know how this really feels."

Julie moved to grab Blaze's shoulders to hold her still. Except she was still ghostly, so it just went through them, causing more of the blood-boiling feeling. Julie saw no reason to move her hands and keep Blaze between herself and Diana, waiting for her friend to come help her.

If they were going to do a demonstration, they needed to do it properly, after all.

[Terra]

“Are you serious,” said Terra, in response to Diana’s long-winded speech.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Greater historical forces”? How could Diana talk about the effects of the historical forces on the town when she was committing the murders? Obviously, Diana had known about Netwaffle before these murders started, or else she wouldn’t be writing a thesis on it. So how could she, one of the instigators of the Mafia’s actions in Wafflenet, claim that she hadn’t been influenced by the murders in Netwaffle?

Terra might have done horrible things, but at least she didn’t try to justify it with shoddy pseudo-academic reasoning.

But she didn’t have time to say any of this, as they were interrupted by a loud, inhuman scream.

Terra looked around. There was a man with a strange gun - she’d seen one of those before, she realized in horror. Not in person, but - that was a ghostbuster’s gun.

Yeah, as angry as she was, there was no way she was going to stick around and risk getting blasted by that thing.

Terra smiled at Diana.

“Sorry, gotta run,” she said, and disappeared.

* * *

Britknee was awake now, and she was talking to Blaze.

""And like, thanks for not letting me die. Now like, I doubt I could be much like, help, but we can't let these stupid law guys win. So here, take my knife." She pressed her blade-- the one that had like, totes been used by Julie to kill Dove-- into Blaze's hand.

Blaze looked down at the knife. It was the same knife that had been used to kill Dove. It was thoroughly blood-soaked, and it was smaller than the knife she was already holding - but hey, at least she could try dual-wielding.

"Use it to like, kill all those people who are trying to kill us! I'll be like, cheering you on!" Despite the still-horrible pain, Britknee brightened as she added, "Yeah! Like a cheerleader! I'm totes a good cheerleader! Gooo Blaze! Kill those lawmen!"

Blaze stared at Britknee. Where did this come from? When did Britknee decide to actually...be encouraging of her?

Someone like her, one of the popular girls in high school, actually cheering on someone like Blaze?

Huh. That was a first.

(Never mind that it wasn’t something that Blaze really wanted to do, of course.)

(Then again, there were still a fair number of wolves fighting the lawmen, who might still need her help.)

(And maybe it was true, what Blaze had said earlier. That their town really would return to peace if they just defeated the lawmen.)

(And at least if she started fighting she wouldn’t have to think about what had happened anymore.)

She gritted her teeth. She might as well get it over with.

“THANKS, BRITKNEE,” she said, as she got to her feet and charged.

Except then she saw a blue-purple blur flying toward her, and OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD PAIN BOILING PAIN NO STOP NO -

"Ha, well. We're so sorry that we weren't able to get to you in time," Julie said, mocking a sympathetic look in her face. "Let's make it up to you, shall we? That way you can know how this really feels."

The ghost of Julie grabbed Blaze’s shoulders, and she realized that she was screaming.

She tried to get out of the ghost’s hold, but her usual tactics didn’t really work against an incorporeal being; she punched and kicked and stabbed wildly but it didn’t seem to help.

“YOU JERK,” she screeched. “YOU MASSIVE, OVERWHELMINGLY HORRIBLE JERK. I KILLED YOU! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO STOP HURTING EVERYONE! WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO HERE OWWWW OH GOD THIS HURTS PEETA NO -”

Peeta leaped through Julie’s ghost, yelped loudly from the pain, and collapsed on the ground.

Blaze then proceeded to scream a number of things that would have to be censored for language.