NTWF Mafia II: The Idyllic Village of Wafflenet

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

Fluffle perked up and forgot about being Alex's footstool for a second. The lady she saved was back!

Fluffle wagged her tail, enveloped Britknee in a fluffy hug, and exchanged pleasantries with Snuggles, who turned out to be quite the intellectual (he WAS a poodle after all!).

Last she recalled, Britknee had made a face when she was rescued from her low blood sugar episode. Some people just didn't like their sugar.

Fluffle recalled some sugar free doughnuts in the back. She cantered behind the counter, pointed to the display, and let her read it.

The only thing that would really sell these was a winning smile. Fluffle displayed all of her sparkling white teeth, hoping she'd like what she saw...

[Gav]

Birch grumbled, walking out of his office. Lately it hadn't felt quite as cozy as he would have liked. That was four bodies in three days, and he had been busy having to come in, do his analyses and have the townspeople chuck it into the freezer owned by the former waffle owner.

It was starting to get unsettling. This was more work than he'd have liked in the quiet little town. It wasn't even all the extra work, either - people were starting to get rattled, and he himself didn't feel quite as safe. Even Thundy showed that you couldn't just keep to yourself and hope for the best.

He decided to stop by and get some ice cream. It felt good being outside without his lab coat in the midday sun, and maybe the frozen treat would lift his mood up.

[Celestial]

Diana quickly scribbled down Kay's reply, finding it more and more curious that there was apparently no desire fr vengeance or revenge in her. She was of course only one individual, the individual themselves did not have much power, but it was still odd to hear such a thing. Nevertheless, she decided to dismiss it as a mere abberation in the data. The town was clearly ready to murder somebody, that much was obvious judging from the previous reaction to similar events and the personalities that were clashing here.

Before she could get Julie's opinion to either confirm her hypothesis or force her to reconsider it, there was a shriek. Penny was dead and what was worse, it was the work of a serial killer, inspired by the mafia. Diana stumbled in place, regaining her balance after a few seconds. The world spun. She did not know Penny too well, she did not know many people in town actually since she was always either busy with her book or just did not want to talk to anybody who did not match her high standards for academic conversation but Penny she knew was nice. Her coffee was always excellent so to Diana it was virtually useless but still, Penny did own a nice place and she was nice. Always so happy-go-lucky...lucky Penny.

Diana had to prevent herself from shedding any tears. She focused on her notes, reading them again and again. Work. Detachment. Work. Historical theory, the psychology of mobs, the recording and the analysis of the events of Wafflenet, how violence begets further violence and the cycle that keeps going. This was the inevitable cycle of history, nobody could do anything about it.

She composed herself enough to write down Julie's answers, albeit in a shaking hand. Diana took several deep breaths, put out her cigarette and decided that she desperately needed coffee.

"Th-thank you, both of you. I...really appreciate your opinions and you can be assured that the historical profession will be thankful," she said, bowing her head to the two women. Before she could turn around and leave, however, the obnoxious uneducated oaf walked in, dressed this time as...what was it, a boxer? And wasn't Penny his sister?

To make it worse, the idiot started talking. It was his usual misogynistic drivel but for some reason, instead of the usual droning that Diana heard whenever he spoke, every single word was clear and painful. It irritated her. Maybe because she had not had coffee today or maybe because of all these murders. She could not even formulate a theory on why she was so angry or why it would be different today. She might as well stop thinking.

Kay of course tried to remedy the situation by reminding him of his loss but Diana had heard enough and she had a much more direct approach: she took her notebook, which since this detail was now important was a large A4, leather-bound and very high-quality notebook, and hit the idiot Melvin squarely in the nose.

"You...you complete, insensitive MORON! Do you even care that your sister is dead or are you going to use that death as an excuse to acquire more women like they are just there to be used?! It wouldn't surprise me if you were the killer! The evidence is clear enough!" she screamed before composing herself and coughing. "Frankly, your autobiography is beneath me since it would not contain a single fact, solid theory or be within my field of expertise and would be a piece of trash that would only be read by the lowest common denominator such as yourself. Good day."

With that, Diana walked out of the pharmacy and headed to Waffles, No Nets to binge on caffiene to get rid of this sickening feeling. She had never hit anybody before in her life. Melvin's comments had always irritated her but never enough to actually be provoked to violence against him. She too was being swept up in the atmosphere and cycle of violence that was permeating the town. Diana was no longer a neutral observer, she was participating.

The thought almost made her throw up. She had always prided herself on her neutrality and on her ability to stay calm and merely observe under all circumstances, to remain detached from the history she was writing. But now, now it had all suddenly become very real and she hated every single bit of it. She could go back, back to her university to take up her doctoral position again, to teach undergraduates and mark essays while writing a monograph on something different. But her academic pride was at stake. She would write the microhistory of Wafflenet and she would do it while recording and observing the events that transpired here. It was her duty.

Once she had composed herself and gotten herself back into her ivory tower of detachment. Everything was going to be...time would continue. History stopped for no man or woman.

[Avery]

The town was not going to stand idly by as the carnage continued.

Clearly their last execution had not worked to end the slaughter-- in fact, now there were two sets of killers operating within the tiny town! Oh, the horror, the woe, the strife! After Penny Mahb's death, the sentiment in town was one of horror muddled with anger. The urge to fight back, to be proactive and attempt to make those responsible for the onslaught of deaths pay for their crimes.

A few of the townspeople moved Mony and Penny's corpses into the freezer at Waffles, No Nets (they really hoped the coroner would show up soon-- but alas all calls to the county office were met with excuses of "extreme backlog" and claims that Wafflenet was "low priority"). And then, as most of the town loitered in the city centre, shocked and appalled, it was only natural that accusations started being flung about again.

Like last time, the initial names that were thrown around seemed chosen at random, with no rhyme or reason to them. Was it that terrible deluded misogynist, THE PYTHON-- or Tracy Chaetura of tin-foil hat fame-- or the unassuming pharmacist, Kay-- or Nora, with her beloved chickens-- or Don Dan Maphia, with his tailor-made name-- or Osi the bird man, who never spoke a word? Why, it could be any of them, or all of them, or none of them. This lack of knowledge-- this veil of ignorance-- was perhaps most terrifying of all.

And then the crowd noticed something. Or more accurately, someone. Someone who previously hadn't shown much emotion at the deaths, because it simply wasn't in his personality to whine and sob over others. At all of the previous killings, this man had not shed a tear. He hadn't cursed and lamented the horrid killers like the rest of the town. For some people, this in and of itself would have been suspicious; but for this man, it was par for the course.

He liked himself more than anyone, did Alex Louis Rockefeller. And wouldn't demean himself to tears over the deaths of silly, lower-class people.

But suddenly, after this latest death, of dear Penny Marie, Alex seemed strangely, overly upset. Had been pacing around since he found about it, flitting in and out of shops and businesses, his face stricken with clear devastation. He was rattled, suddenly. And given his personality, that was odder than anything else.

"Why are you so upset?" demanded one of the townspeople of Alex.

"I... I... it's just sad," he stuttered. "What's been happening."

"But you weren't sad after the Salesman died!" cried another of the increasingly agitated mob. "Nor after Yoyti and Mony! Only after Penny died did you become sad. Funny, isn't it? The mafia deaths don't impact you at all... but when someone unexpected dies, you become emotional?"

"I just knew her better," murmured Alex.

"Hah! Knew her better? No! I think it more likely that the mafia deaths don't impact you because you are in the mafia, and so orchestrated them! But Penny surprised you. You weren't expecting Penny. And so it's upset you, because now you've realized that you aren't immune to being killed! That you're just as vulnerable as the rest of us-- that the Wafflenet Slicer's next victim could be you, or your fellow mafia criminals!"

"No!" Alex said. "That is not true! I just knew Penny better. I just knew her better..."

But it didn't matter what Alex said: the crowd had made up its mind. And so as Alex struggled mightily against them, the townspeople dragged him over to the gallows where they'd hanged Thundy yesterday. And then they strung him out, convinced that this time they'd gotten one of the true criminals.

**

Afterward, the mafia briefly convened to talk about the latest advancements. Penny's death had been unexpected to them, just like the crowd had maintained; but the townspeople had truly gone mad with fear if they thought the mafia would be so daft as to reveal their identities by acting particularly, suddenly upset over a murder. Hah!

"That poor Alex bugger," said the one.

"Oh, don't feel bad for him," said the second. "If it's him or us, I'll choose him any time!"

"Ditto," agreed the third. "And anyway, if he hadn't been so blasé about the first deaths, this wouldn't have happened. So it's kind of his fault!"

"It is a bit disconcerting, though," said the fourth, "about the serial killer. Though I suppose it does give a good distraction, doesn't it? We're no longer the only criminals in town for them to pursue. Perhaps it'll help us, ultimately."

"We can only hope," said the first. "Now, let's get back to the city centre before anyone realizes we're gone."

Alex Louis Rockefeller was an innocent townsperson... and another member of the FREEMASONS, of which now only one member remains.

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

Fluffle took out the scissors. It was time.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror with a shaking hoof. Not her best friend....no one could pet her so smoothly like he could...

Snip. A little less fluff to go around. The cows wouldn't like it, and neither would those who liked to take pictures of her.

Snip. Everyone was likeable, even that Python guy. She didn't understand why they had to die in the first place.

Snip. She'd have to make more cupcakes to try and comfort the families...but no amount of cupcakes could make her comfort herself.

Fluffle looked in the mirror.


She appeared just as fluffy as before, but she felt lighter, which was ironic, for her heart was heavy.


Fluffle stuffed the giant bag with her pink fluff and went to donate it to The Salvation Taco.


She could make someone happy with her fluff, even if it wasn't her. Straight face, she thought, carrying the sack in her mouth. Straight face.... she thought, passing the gallows.

Straight face, they'll be happy to see you, they always have be--


Fluffle's legs crumpled underneath her, leaving her lying down in the middle of the road, leaving her vulnerable to being run over, mobbed, attacked, killed....

[Draco]

Rocky Boulder Rockfell had a strange childhood. As a child his mother would read him books of great castles and kings and great people who built said castles out of their rocks. He never understood how their small rock farm produced so many rocks to build a castle, but he didn't care. Nor did he ever find the secret quarry outside of town where his father employed several hundred workers to mine and cut large stone slabs for the castles. His family was filthy rich! However, Rocky hit his head as a child, something caused by his crazy sister, who at the time wasn't that crazy, which caused both of them to change. His sister just got a bit crazy, more fun, more loving, scary when depressed, etc. Him on the other hand, turned for the worse and thought HE was one of these royal lords who deserved to live in a castle. When he got old enough he searched and managed to join the Freemasons. In this town, that didn't leave many members. In fact his own parents were members, but he never found that out. So many secrets. This was the time he decided to go by the name Alex Louis Rockerfeller.

Now free from his mortal body he floated above his family's rock farm. Just sort of floated. He wasn't sure what to do. He floated above the town looking down at the people. He wasn't sure what to do. He looked around at the scared and partially depressed people. A thought came to his head.

"I just had an incredible idea!"

He flies down and finds a woman who looks distressed. Kneeling down beside her he takes her hands, after several awkward attempts, and looks up into her eyes. Sparkles dances around his face.

"Aah Princess, even if the world ended this minute, I want to be the man who even sacrifices his own life to protect you..."

He thought about it for a second and realized how bad that sounded, since he was all ready dead, but that didn't matter. What mattered now was not to believe he was royalty, but to KNOW he was royalty! A KING! And all the women of this town were mere princesses, princesses who needed to be shown they were all special!

[The Last Freemason]

Sobbing too hard to speak, the veiled citizen stood up and said what he/she needed to say in his/her mind. "I'd like to thank you all for coming today, in the midst of this...terror." The veiled citizen looked about him/her. The table, where the veiled citizen had shared many an unsweetened cup of hibiscus tea with Alex and Penny, was empty, the voids mocking the last one alive, taunting him/her.

Penny's death was bad enough. The sweet girl, the intelligent one, the rational one, didn't deserve a slow death. She wasn't even shot, for Splatterboards's sake!

The last Freemason sobbed harder. "Today, we are here to discuss the events in the town. First we lost *swallow* Stal, then Yoyti, then poor Thundy who just slept in late, then MONY of all people! She made the best waffles, am I right, Alex?" She/he punched the bag of flour on its "shoulder".

Alex Flour said nothing.

"What do you think, Penny?" The Last Freemason sniffled, then patted the large book on her head.

Pennycyclopedia said nothing.

"I thought as much. It's so nice to be around you guys. Anyway, I did want to catch the Benedict Arnold but my goodness he was MONY! I still can't believe it. It's almost like you guys are still around, the way you talk to me so sweetly. It's grand. We have each other. And we will do our best to protect each other so long as we live. We have to stick.....together...." The Last Freemason pounded the table violently, upsetting both the bag of flour and the large encyclopedia, which hit the floor with a resounding THUD. The THUD echoed throughout the room, indicating the lack of presence.

The veiled citizen could not think quietly. He/She screamed her thoughts in her mind: "I FAILED YOU! I FAILED YOU BOTH! COME BACK! PLEASE!" The Last Freemason let out an inhuman wail, which would have traveled had the room not been soundproofed. Standing at the gallows had been too much for this lonesome citizen. He/she had wanted to scream, "Let him go! He's innocent!" but her/his throat had frozen, and no one heard his/her cry. The one night he/she hadn't said goodnight to Penny due to complete exhaustion from work....

Come to think of it, The Last Freemason felt emotionally drained, which was more than understandable. The citizen had lost both of his/her closest friends on the same day. There was nothing to do except head home. An underground society with a population of one was nothing. The veiled citizen was reduced to just an ordinary townsperson.

With a resounding sniffle, The Last Freemason slammed the table once more. "Meeting adjourned." he/she thought, then went back to where he/she was supposed to go.

[Robyn]

The sun had gradually sailed over Dove's head as she took the time to compose herself, and finally she wiped away the last of her welling Studio Ghibli tears. It was getting darker. Shadows were stretching out and consuming the alleyway, creeping over the weeds and concrete like spider legs, pooling like black blood--

"Uuuu," she cried, "I- I can't stay here!"

With fear renewing her energy, Dove stood up and thrust out her hands to the sky, causing her birds to take flight in surprise. They knocked into each other a bit before coordinating and heading north to their home, just as they'd been trained.

"Save travels, my petto no hato! May the winds of the gods cushion your flight!" she called. She knew they would be safe; they could fly away from any danger that dared present itself to their kawaii little lives. She herself was not so lucky. If only she could draw enough inspiration from them, or perhaps just wish hard enough, to live up to her namesake, lifting up to the skies on slips of feathery white...

Hm. That gave her an idea.

It would have to wait until after work, though. It was still a little too early to clock in, but Dove began to powerwalk over to the Sarsaparilla Armadillo. Every clouded face she passed on the street was only going to look that much more terrifying in the dark. (She even thought she saw a sparkling specter gliding above her at one point!) When she got to the back door, she was surprised to see the club's bouncer guarding the entrance, beefy arms crossed and brow set.

"Brutus? What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be helping set up the stage?" Dove asked. Despite his menacing appearance, Brutus was a kind man whose first priority was always the female servers' safety. Mark it up to a placebo effect, but some customers could get pretty rowdy after a few rounds of top-shelf root beer. Brutus always warned first and punched lights out second, which Dove respected. A true modern-day samurai, driven by honor! So sugoi. His rugged good looks were merely a compliment to his chivalrous appeal. He was one of the few people Dove could truly consider a friend, as she was known to sneak him free drinks between breaks, and he would snag posters and manga volumes from his crazy ex-girlfriend's apartment for her.

"Mr. Armadi's orders," Brutus explained, "He wanted a lookout to make sure all the girls got here safely. And, uh...well. To make sure no one was followed, either. See, word's getting around that those vigilantes from the other night were on the prowl for another "victim of justice", and...well, rumor has it they succeeded once again. They're killers too, Dove. No matter the intentions, I'm supposed to be checking around for suspicious characters that could be lurking around the back alleys."

Dove's heart sank. So it had come to this.

With a sad smile, she said, "Well, thank you for looking out for us, Brutus-senpai. I won't lie; it's gotten pretty scary just walking alone in town lately. It's good to know someone's on the side of good, love, and pure white magic, desu. That deserves at least one extra drink on the house tonight, wouldn't you think?"

"Anytime, sweetheart. I'm just doing my job," Brutus chuckled. He pulled off her kitty hat by its ear as she passed by him to the door. Dove swiveled around to snatch it back, but he held it out of her reach and ruffled her hair. "Remember what the boss said? None of that Japanese stuff when you're on the clock. It alienates the customers."

Dove sighed in defeat.

"Et tu, Brute?" she asked, stomping through the door.

He snorted and called after her, "That joke just gets less and less funny, you know!"

[icon]

Two harsh caws rang out. Crows this time, Osi noted. The weather always ruffled them up a bit this time of year, but now they seemed scared, frightened.

Some might have called Osilon Abacus Crane bumbling, or awkward, or a few twigs shy of a nest; but he wasn't dumb. He'd been able to interpret the bird calls; death, they always said, this town cries out with the sounds of death. He'd never been one to witness these scenes firsthand- the birds were much more interesting, plus they had the added bonus of not trying to kill you as often- but he'd been observant. Two birds in the bush were worth more when they could talk with each other, he'd reasoned. That, coupled with the fact that violence made him queasy, kept him away from the mobs as often as he could.

But today they came out of nowhere, swarming, and took Alex Louis Rockefeller. Osi'd never been one for a Hitchcocking, but the mass of the mob seemed to swell. It was over in a moment, Alex's life snuffed in a blink.

And now he felt tense. On edge, on toes, on talons, on a need for something to do, someone to talk to (or at least vaguely gesture his thoughts to). He glanced around the square; it was starting to get dark out, not to mention that on a night like this it be best to head to safe, public places. The diner was open late, as always, and the Sarsaparilla Armadillo had been rather nice the times he went in (the days Dove was off duty; not tonight, he thought while frowning). He made up a decision; Waffles, No Nets it was.

The bell above the door jingled slightly as he made his way in, looking around the diner. Of course Mony wouldn't be in- alas, poor goose, we hardly knew ye- but Mick was probably around. He decided to sit at a seat and make himself as comfortable as possible, which is not very much when a person who spends all his time paying attention to birds finds himself in such a human place. He glanced around, fingers on goggles; this booth had a nice view of the square outside.

Osi felt like he should be doing something, but he couldn't do anything now except wait.

[♥ Azzie]

Nora didn't learn of the murders until that day around noon.
She hadn't slept much, but when she did finally get to sleep, she woke up promising herself she would stay home and not go into town that day. It started out quite well; she cooked herself some breakfast, tidied her house a bit, and knitted, quite resolutely not thinking about what had taken place the previous day. She occupied her mind with how messy the spare room had gotten and what a nice sweater this was going to be when she finished it. She knitted for about an hour before getting up and going to her kitchen to make lunch.

Then she noticed she was out of milk and bread.

She tried to simply find something else to eat, but quickly discovered that she was in dire need of a trip to market. But market was only open on Saturdays; she recalled dimly that this was why she had been at the cafe yesterday in the first place. All she had was eggs, raw rhubarb, and some potato mash which she'd made for the chickens and discovered they didn't like. And she already knew that raw rhubarb tasted quite terrible. Not that she could live on it even if she had liked it.

So it was with a resigned air that she made the trek back into Wafflenet. As she approached Waffles, No Nets, she saw with a sinking jolt that there was, once more, a crowd around it.
It didn't take long for her to hear what had happened. "There's been two more murders!" someone said, in the nervous excited voice of someone who isn't sure how to react to their whole town crumbling around them. Nora sank down onto the nearest bench.
What was going on in this town? She buried her face in her hands, hunger quite forgotten amidst her own thoughts.

[Terra]

Okay, so Blaze was pretty horrified about the whole people-dying thing. First it was the owner of the diner, whose corpse she’d managed to drag Primrose away from before she could devour the whole thing (someone was going to want some parts of it for evidence, she reasoned), but then there was ANOTHER killer who’d killed the owner of the coffee shop, and THEN the Mafia had killed that weird rich rock-farm dude, and it was all pretty terrible.

But what Blaze had learned from all this was that shutting down and sitting around shell-shocked hadn’t done any good. And that was ALL that ANYONE seemed to be doing, so MAYBE it’d be a good idea to stop WORRYING about it and ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS WHOLE MURDER SITUATION before it got EVEN MORE OUT OF HAND.

So she dragged Primrose back over to the dumpster where the Waffles, No Nets owner had been found, hoping that she’d be able to sniff out some clues.

The body was gone, unfortunately, but Primrose seemed to be sniffing out a fair bit anyway as she walked around the dumpster, her nose running over everything. Now, what, exactly, she was smelling, Blaze had no idea...

Suddenly, Primrose dashed down the alley at high speed, catching Blaze off guard. Which allowed the leash to slip from Blaze’s grasp.

“HEY,” yelled Blaze, as she ran after Primrose. “STOP. I MEAN STAY. PRIMROSE, STAY!”

It was to no avail. Primrose was dashing into the town square, right at a guy sitting on a bench - that Maphia dude...

“PRIMROSE, NO,” Blaze screeched.

Horrifying images of blood and scratches and bites and maulings flashed through her mind as she approached -

But when she came to a halt in front of the bench, she saw that Primrose was licking the Maphia guy’s face all over and covering it with slobber.

Blaze grabbed Primrose’s collar and pulled her off of the poor man.

“I’m so sorry,” said Blaze. “So sorry. Won’t happen again...”

She grasped the leash tightly and began to walk Primrose away. Hopefully she'd be able to keep that promise.

[Lizica]

Tracy shook the doorknob on the front door of the Shipshape Shop. It was securely locked, and her new "away" sign was in place in the window: "If not back at all, please inform the CIA and the old Wafflenet detective."

As she passed, she caught a glimpse of her old inflatable fake UFO she kept next to the shop. It looked more deflated than she remembered, somehow. She didn't know why she still kept it. Obviously, the aliens hovering over Wafflenet were too cruel and calculating to be fooled by a stupid homemade decoy that could only flash elaborate light shows.

As she approached the town square, the ragged, heartless gallows spiked into view, and Tracy suddenly had an unsettling thought: Why hadn't she been killed?

She should have been an obvious choice: After all, she knew too much. But Mony, Penny, and Alex--... Tracy tried not too look at the diner, the crowds, or the café as she passed. They felt dark. The people who had once filled these places were gone.

They had been good people, kind people, and she had cared about each of them. None of them had been truly aware of the danger. But Tracy--Tracy had been very verbal about her plan to defeat the aliens through her hats, and yet the aliens had not eliminated her. Clearly, they did not see her as a threat. They were probably up in their invisibility-cloaked ship right at this very moment, laughing at her puny, useless efforts to help her fellow townspeople.

She needed to decode these radio signals, and quickly. And moreover, she would have to do it in secret. As a front, the townspeople would say she had just picked up a foreign language radio station--but through the townspeople, the aliens would know about her radio interceptions. This time, she'd have to keep to herself. Yet at the same time, Tracy wished she knew of someone in town who was good at breaking codes. She couldn't make heads or tails of her notes.

Across the square, she saw the bakery owner, Fluffle, collapse.

Tracy stashed her notebook and hurried over to help her up. Then she pulled out the hat she'd made for the pony and extended it. It had been a difficult hat to make. At first it had been a cupcake, until she realized a normal tin foil hat just would just blow off of a fluffy head. Now it was a strange mounted shape (hopefully like icing?), with tin foil straps on both sides to wrap around the ears.

"Stay safe!" Tracy said. "Oh--and don't eat it, if you can. It's better on the head where it can diffuse at least a little extraterrestrial influence. That's important, you know?"

Tracy glanced up for a moment. There were other people to whom she still needed to give her last hats...before the aliens caught on to her new plan.

[Gelquie]

Julie was on her way out the door when the door opened and blocked her path, and she saw THE PYTHON step inside. She resisted the urge to sigh. This was really not a good time for anyone for THE PYTHON's... behavior. And sure enough, he began spouting his usual insults. Julie gave the other two a look of sympathy from where she stood, but she didn't want to catch his attention, so she quietly slipped away as he talked, knowing that there was really not much she could do.

Besides, she was distracted with thoughts of food. And coffee. And the murders that had been happening. So with that, she quickly made her way over to Waffles No Nets and ordered a plate of waffles and a large cup of coffee. She drank her coffee without restraint as she felt herself becoming more awake and alert. Unfortunately, it just means that the thoughts in her head about the murders spun that much faster. Another Mafia death, and now a serial killer on the loose... How much more could the town take? How much more would it take? Would everything be alright?

By the time she had finished her lunch, the town had come to arms again. She had tried to focus on her deliveries during all this time, though even then, she found it hard to focus when there was all the finger-pointing going on around town. And eventually, the town had decided to turn their sights onto Alex. Whether or not it might be Alex, Julie turned away when the hanging happened.

She spent the rest of the day doing her duties as a delivery girl. She delivered the two medicines that were commissioned to her (once she resolved a little mix-up between them) and completed her other deliveries. It was late afternoon by the time she had finished, and she had retreated to a bench in town square, strumming her mandolin thoughtfully.

"As the sun sets low on the hill,
shrouding the valley of the dead,
fear in the town adds to the chill
ensuring that our hope is shred..."

She strummed a few more chords before letting out a sigh. Unable to find another rhyming lyric within her, she let go of her mandolin and slumped forward on her bench, watching the town holing up in the various buildings, seeing the fear in their eyes. She couldn't help but feel that it was only going to get worse.

It was then that she felt a chill among her hands, and she saw... No, that couldn't be right. She saw... Alex? Some sort of visage of Alex had gently grasped her hands. Soon, she found herself staring straight into the sparkling eyes of the recently-deceased.

"Aah Princess, even if the world ended this minute, I want to be the man who even sacrifices his own life to protect you..."

Hearing these words, in the voice she knew was Alex's, Julie only did what was most natural to her when it came to sudden ghostly encounters.

She let out a bloodcurdling scream.

[Alyssa]

Penny woke up the morning after the murders with an excruciatingly sharp pain in her neck.
It lasted for a few awful, seemingly unending seconds before it faded into nothingness as quickly and as completely as it had come.

That was odd, she thought with confusion.
Maybe she'd just slept wrong, that must be it.

As she lay there, she vaguely remembered getting the morning's coffee started, and then... then there was a visitor.
They were too early, the person. She couldn't remember their face, only that they seemed familiar.
They were too early and she hadn't begun the day's preparations, so she'd asked them if they cared to wait.

They sat down, and she turned away from the person only for a minute to put the coffee to boil and-

She could not remember anything past that.

It was a dream, she concluded, with a bit of relief. It was a dream and she had slept wrong and now she was going to get up and start her day.

When she made an attempt to get up, however, something was wrong.
The smell of burnt coffee filled the air. Penny never burned coffee.
Her ideas for a good meal were often odd, yes, but Partly Cloudy Coffee Days were sacred and she took care to make the best coffee she knew how.
Without fail her coffee was consistently good every time.

Penny felt very odd. Too light.
She began to panic, wishing fervently that her dream had just been a dream.
She rubbed her eyes and then looked at her hands as if they'd tell her what was wrong.
Then she realized that she could see through them.
And what she saw was not reassuring.

It was herself. Or, her body, at least.
Dead.
It was lying, all twisted and horrible, in its own blood.
So dead.
She saw the fatal wound and broke down completely.
She had to get out.

She pulled free from her body, gave one last shuddering look, and fled(floated quickly, really).
Meaning to push the door open, she gave a running start and nearly wept when she phased right through.

Today really was not turning out to be a good one.

[Tiger]

Mick didn't get the entire day to deal with Mony's death or his squeeing admiration of the mafia who'd killed him. People needed food, and drink, and the coffee masquerading as a drink. And it wasn't long before Mick heard about Penny's death, and then Alex's.

The mafia, a slicer, and the townsfolk themselves. Mick could practically smell the blood on the air that rushed in through the door whenever a customer entered.

Despite the grim faces and the whispered horrors, handling the patrons was a welcome distraction. Only one of the servers had stayed after seeing or hearing about Mony's death, a former actress named Tanya, who played characters more often than she lived her own life. Tnya was a bit unsettling if you saw her in more than one environment; in the diner, she was typical truck-stop waitress, chewing gum and southern drawl and all. While working in her garden, she became a warble-voiced grandmother type. Mick had made the mistake of talking to her once just before she left for a pie-baking contest, and found himself in a very-drawn out conversation about tea with a Southern belle. Her grief at Mony's death might have been as much of an act.

Anyway, running the restaurant with only one server was enough to keep Mick's mind from the worst thoughts, until evening came and everyone swept off to their homes. Mick couldn't blame them. He wanted to be home right now, his entire body ached and the restaurant was starting to creep him out, everything the same and yet, so different for Mony's absence and the violence all over town.

Mick was fiddling with stacks of packaged jelly on the back tables while waiting for Tanya to finish eating one of the microwavable meals from the freezer (something Mick didn't want to think about) when the door bells rang. He looked up, heart suddenly racing - mafia, serial killer, the crazy townspeople -

It was just Osi Crane, and he pulled neither gun, knife, or noose - just sat at a booth. It was a novel sight; Mick didn't think he'd ever seen Osi in a building other than the Shipshape Shop. And the guy was usually on top of the building, anyway.

Well, it was hardly the strangest thing that had happened in town today. Mick headed for Osi's booth, scooping a menu off another table. Lots of odd things were going on, but Mick didn't think Osi talking would be one of them.

"'Evening," Mick said, sliding the menu onto the table. "Can I get you anything?" Man - it was to make eye contact with someone wearing goggles.