NTWF Mafia II: The Idyllic Village of Wafflenet

[Robyn]

"WEE-OO WEE-OO WEE-OO WEE-OO!! THIRD DEATH HAS OCCURRED! THIRD DEATH HAS OCCURRED! MONY IS GONE! REPEAT, ANTIMONY PARSIMONY ALIMONY HAS BEEN KILLED BY THE MAFIA!"

Dove jolted up in bed, fumbling with the pastel sleep mask on her face before tearing it off, eyes wide. They had got to be joking. Whether she meant that more about the death itself or the announcement via bullhorn, she wasn't sure, but it was only 9 o' clock and /already/ another townsperson had kicked it? They might as well just go ahead and rename the town Silent Hill. Wait, that was a video game.

"Close enough," she grumbled, kicking her way out of her sheets.

There were bags under Dove's eyes, partly from the stress of last night's shift and partly from her added insomnia. She'd only been able to fall asleep once she'd seen the reassuring first rays of sunlight peeking through her curtains, but even now the thought disturbed her. Had she fallen asleep at the same time that Mony was gasping for his last breaths? She pressed out a sigh, willing herself not to think about it. It was time to start her morning routine, and she was sure a hearty breakfast and five anime episodes in a row could help to turn things around.

Later on, after she'd put her dishes in the sink and fed her doves, Dove sat down at her writing desk. She'd gathered up her mail, and to her surprise, there was a letter that was glowing a faint blue. She gasped.

"Could this be...the Sacred Scroll of Eternal Ice? Just like in Pretty Pretty Lemonade Swirl Party, episode 18?" Dove whispered in reverence.

She tore it open, and her face fell. "Oh. It's just a stupid magical ghost letter."

The paper emitted an eerie hum as she read its contents.

Dear Cousin,

Though you could probably tell from the ethereal letter, this is Robyn. They never seem to have any plain computer paper around here, so spooky blue stationery it is! Sorry about that. I know the humming gets pretty annoying after a while.

But hey. I'm writing because I've heard some unsettling rumors about Wafflenet recently, and I'm getting very worried about you. When the mafia tried to overrun Netwaffle, it was nothing but pain and misery for everyone here for much too long. I lost my life, and we all lost our trust. I can't tell you how sorry I am that you may be experiencing the same kind of trauma that we all had to.

Nonetheless, you've lasted longer than I ever did if you're alive and well reading this! I want you to take care of yourself. Be careful who you confide in. Protect yourself. Just try to be a survivor, okay?

Although, if you DO happen to die during all this, do you think then you'd be able to make it to the we--

Dove threw the letter down and willed herself not to cry. She couldn't die. She didn't want to die. Maybe Robyn had adjusted, but Dove had too many things she wanted to do before crossing over. All those crossover cosplays, for example! Her fans needed her alive, and Dove wasn't going to disappoint them.

With a huff, Dove tugged on her kitty hat and marched out the door. Maybe she could try to find Britknee and apologize for losing track of her yesterday, but for the time being, she needed some comfort food. Anything to get that letter out of her head and some waffles into her stomach.

[Gelquie]

Julie walked groggily out of the post office, where she had another satchel full of letters on her side. While normally a morning person, Julie found her dreams troubled by everything that had happened the previous day. Three murders... She couldn't keep the sight of the corpses out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried. While she didn't mind her nightmare getting interrupted by her alarm clock for the morning, she did mind just how tired she felt when it happened.

She still had her work to do. She stared at the note in her hand. In her fatigue, it took her 3 readings to finally get the idea of its content. It had told her that she was expected to do a pick-up delivery at the pharmacy. She figured she should do that first; better to have all the items she needs to deliver right away before she starts passing out other messages.

Julie wasn't expecting anything to happen on her way to the pharmacy. Or at least, she was hoping that nothing special would happen. But her hopes were dashed when she reached the town square and heard the words of Chet, the local town hobo. He was screaming that the Benedict Arnold was dead.

Another death... So it wasn't ending soon... But Benedict Arnold? It didn't sound like anyone she knew. Or was he referring to someone else and Chet just got his name wrong? ...Julie was too tired to think about it much. But she did understand one thing. Another had fallen, and the partly cloudy day looked darker to her.

Julie looked towards the alleyway, thinking about finding out who had died, before she tore away from the scene and began walking towards the pharmacy again. She didn't want to look at another corpse. The events were troubling enough; she didn't need to see it for herself. Besides, she figured that she would learn from someone else who was the unfortunate victim. Word was bound to get around town. Until then...

Julie tried to push the thought out of her mind for now as she dragged herself towards the pharmacy. With a sigh, she opened the doors and entered the building.

"Hi Kay. I was sent here for a pick-up delivery, is that right?" She waved at the woman at her seat. She tried her best not to look too tired or despondent, and in the process managed not to notice Kay's injury quite yet.

[Celestial]

Diana had spent much of the evening organising the information she had gotten from the townspeople into a working primary source, recording every fact and every snippet she had gathered, of which there was a lot. Thankfully, she never ran out of notebooks. All in all, it was as fair and accurate a representation of the murders and subsequent lynching as she could make with her own biases and background. She had tried testing out how viable a source it was by writing an essay on the topic of mob mentality throughout history using the source as a citation but it did not feel right due to the recentness of the events. Finally giving up, Diana went to sleep.

She awoke to the news that there had been another victim, one she actually knew and quite liked for the facts that she had told her about the diner the previous day. Mony was dead.

Diana's face well when she had heard. Mony was so nice to her, he had provided quite a bit of information and her diner served the worst coffee, perfect for waking the historian up and getting her brain going. She could not believe that such a person could have supported the mafia but the evidence was clear and she could not argue with evidence.

"Although the name 'Benedict Arnold' was a very misleading term as General Arnold had a decent military record and was unfairly demonised for doing the pragmatic thing that honestly, many of his fellow countrymen would have done. It was not fair to pick specifically on him for changing sides when many others had done the same. Although perhaps because he was so prominent that the plot to defect to the British was so galvanising to the American revolutionary cause. Regardless, it was important to the myth of the formation of the nation because they need heroes and villains, good and evil. While Mony was indeed a traitor, the real Benedict Arnold was a scapegoat who is unfairly demonised for his plan to surrender and defect. In order to have an unbiased account, it was important that somebody pointed it out-"

She was rambling. For the first time since she entered university, Diana became aware of that fact. Oh yes, it was a good thing in her profession to ramble but nevertheless, she had...okay, she very frequently went into historical fact spouting mode, she could not deny that but nevertheless, she was very scared. With another murder, there was undoubtedly going to be a lynching and then more murder. The cycle had been established and Diana was very good at detecting the larger trends and cycles in events. The question was how it was going to break, whether through a change in forces beyond the control of the townspeople or was somebody going to show individual agency and snap everyone out of this. With the mafia loose, she doubted it would be the latter. The town was baying for blood. Even if Mony had been sympathetic to the mafia, she was one of their own.

Could Diana have broken the cycle? No. It was her duty to observe and record what was happening, not interfere. And right now, she had a job to do. Praying that there would be no more killing was hopeless, such hysteria was hard to reign in once it had gotten started. Diana was not going to cling to such hopes, she was a historian. Historians had to deal with grim...not reality, per say, the reality she dealt with was a construct of words and did not constitute the true reality of the event as it happened but it was close enough, as least she liked to think so otherwise she was out of the job. But now, she wanted to see if her prediction was true, whether the townspeople really did want more murder.

After drinking several cups of the foulest coffee yet, Diana put on new shoes, adjusted her glasses, lit up a cigarette and went outside. The first person she saw was the postwoman/town crier, Julie, running past towards the pharmacy with a stack of letters. Figuring that she was as good a person as any, Diana followed her. The pharmacist, Kay, was also there. Perfect. Nothing would distract Diana more from the horrific murders than figuring out why this town was suddenly so keen on them. History was happening, although yes, it was also some psychology and sociology. Everything eventually went into history, which is why it was the dominant social science.

"Pardon me," she coughed, approaching the two women and taking out her notebook, "I want to talk to you about the murders that occurred. Yes, it's probably a bad memory but sacrifices have to be made so that this event is easier for future historians to write about and fit into the greater narrative. This latest death, what can you tell me about it and what do you feel about it? Are you compelled to go out and murder somebody who you think may be responsible and why is that so?" she coughed again. "And do not accuse me of being a journalist, I have had that before and I am far above that. My interest is quite literally academic."

[Tiger]

Mick tore down the street, looking as if he'd rolled out of bed and into the nearest clothes he could find before bolting out of his house. He'd actually been awake for a few minutes, convinving himself to eat a piece of toast before leaving for the diner. Then Chet Flash had run by the open window...

Mick didn't know any Benedict Arnold and hadn't exactly put his nose to the grindstone in history class, but the news of another dead body...and right outside the restaurant... He'd gone home before Mony, but surely the she hadn't stayed behind long, surely he hadn't kept his nightly tradition of taking the trash out into the alleyway where Stal had met his end. And if Chet and Stal, neither one of them associated with Waffles, No Nets, had been there...hell, for all Mick knew the mafia had caught someone trying to sneak in to get at the ice cream. Trauma. It did crazy things to people. Like make them try to steal mortuary-themed flavors of melting ice cream in the dead of night with known killers on the town. And hey, everybody thought Thundy was the murderer...maybe they thought it was safe, I guess, ice cream can be a powerful motivator right?

His attempts at tricking himself were starting to feel fake even to himself.

Predictably there was already a crowd gathered around the back alley. The dumpster. Mick's stomach twisted, and not just because Blaze had a wolf on a leash, though that probably helped.

The historian who'd been visiting was rambling about something - that Benedict name Chet had thrown around. Mick was too busy trying to get close enough to see the body that he could only pick up snatches of the diatribe, but it was enough to jog his memory. Benedict Arnold; a traitor.

A traitor against...what, Wafflenet? Someone who's on the mafia's side?

Mick could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he squeezed between the last people in his path - almost at once, he staggered right back into them. It was Mony -but - no! Mony had given Mick a job, beaten up THE PYTHON, protected her customers, didn't fire Mick after finding out he couldn't cook eggs...

She can't be dead...and he's not a traitor! I know him, she wouldn't...

Some of the letters remained in the restraunt owner's pocket. One blew in Mick's direction, catching on the curve of his shoe; Mick numbly reached down to pick it up - he didn't even need to read the whole thing.

Mick let the letter fall and turned away, pushing back through the crowd. Every last one of these people, he realized, was a potential murderer. Any one of these bizzarre, quirky, incredibly strange people could be a killer, no matter how many times Mick had poured them coffee or delivered them a half-soupy omelette or talked to them out on the street - if Mony, the person in town he'd be sure he knew best could be a traitor, he couldn't trust anyone here as far as he could throw them.

The restaurant door was unlocked. Mick shoved it open and went to the booth farthest from the kitchen and its door to the back alley and away from the windows, and dropped his head onto the table and hid it in his arms.

[icon]

The first thing Osi was conscious of? The noises. The crackle of tinfoil on the roof (it was a week before Miss Chaetura's routine shingle replacement, he recalled), the pigeons fluttering away, the murmuring of townspeople all wrapped together and manifested themselves as a minor cacophony pounding on his head.

Under normal circumstances Osilon was an early riser, but for some reason his bird clock wasn't working. Osi positioned birds around the Shipshape Shop, and by monitoring their repetitive activity he was able to create a sort of aviary-based timepiece. It certainly wasn't an actual clock made from birds, though he had tried that once too¹.

But the larks which should have woken him up were quiet. As he freshened up and looked around, Osi saw that they, too, were huddled together; clearly not a good sign.

He stuck his head out the window of the attic and saw that Miss Chaetura's bag was still up there. She must have come up to work on her conspiracy theories. But he decided that he should not tamper with her property; instead, he climbed up the side of the roof to the top of the incline, grabbing the chimney for support.

Wafflenet was usually sunny, but today there seemed to be a sort of dullness, a thin layer of fog, almost imperceptible but just there enough to be noticed. It was pretty, but it was a still prettiness; a delicate moment of solace, waiting to be shattered by more chaos and madness and oh cripes what were those doves doing-

If Osi ever talked, now would probably have been a time for him to say something like "agh, gerroff meaaaghcrash bump thud" while falling off the roof. However, instead he just flailed his arms incoherently while the dove knocked him off balance, then he rolled off the roof, thinking it fortunate that Miss Chaetura had installed this giant inflatable UFO sculpture a while back. He'd have to make it up to her later.

He looked up at the sky, watching the birds. Doves. Dove. Those were her birds, weren't they? He would have to have a word with her about that. Or rather, a silence with her that implied words, which was just as sufficient. He dusted himself off and strolled into the street, oblivious to the fact that if he had fallen the other way he would have run into the body of one Antimony Parsimony Alimony.

¹It was an awful mess, cleaning all the cogs out of that nest.

[Avery]

No one had seen Penny today.

Normally, she opened her bookshop-cafe bright and early-- up with the sun, you might say. But when several townspeople drifted to her shop after the discovery of Antimony Parsimony Alimony's corpse, eager to wash away their sorrows with a cup of steaming, delicious coffee or tea, they were all surprised and confused to find the door suspiciously shuttered. The first few people to find the shop closed shrugged it off and wandered away, resolving themselves to a bitter cuppa from Waffles, No Nets. But as more time progressed, and it grew later and later... the people of Wafflenet realized that something was not quite right here. Penny wouldn't leave her beloved shop closed so long after the usual opening time, unless something was very, very wrong.

Finally, someone thought to check 'round back-- and found the back door unlocked. The townsperson pushed it open and peeked his head inside... and was promptly greeted by the smell of burnt coffee. The man frowned. Penny Marie Mahb was a coffee connoisseur: she never burned, only roasted to perfection.

Oh yes, something had to be wrong here.

"Hullo?" called the townsperson as he stepped inside.

No reply.

Part of him felt like he was doing something wrong by entering without permission, that he ought to step back outside. But he had a feeling that something was just so off that he couldn't simply leave without making sure that Penny was okay. So into the shop he went, the door thudding shut behind him. In the back room, everything seemed normal: shelves full of bagged coffee, and packaged treats, and other assorted stock. So far, so good. Feeling slightly better, the townsperson walked towards the swinging door that led to the front of Penny's shop.

The first thing he noticed once he crossed the threshold was the smell of burning-- scorching-- coffee, even worse in here than it had been in the back. Even more strangely, the pot the coffee had been dripping into was overfilled and spilling onto the floor, something Penny would have never, ever allowed to occur. Blanching at the burnt smell, the townsperson reached over and flicked off the machine. Then, careful not to slip in the puddle of overflowing coffee, he started towards the front of the shop. As he moved, he glanced over the front counter and saw...

... a person.

On the floor, splayed and pale, facing away from him. Penny.

His first reaction was to assume that she'd merely fallen, that she was okay but unconscious. But after racing over to her, the townsperson realized that this wasn't the case. Not only was Penny very, very dead... but based on the thick, gory cut across her neck, she hadn't come to be that way accidentally. Shell-shocked, the man rocketed to his feet and fled towards the front door, where he fumbled with the lock. He knew he needed to get out and tell the people of the town about this horrific crime. This next brutal murder of the mafia!

But as the townsperson bumbled with the lock, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention, something he somehow hadn't seen before. He turned his head to look at it, and nearly fainted when he did. Because there, scrawled on the wall in what he could only assume was Penny's blood, was a message:

I could not resist. The mafia has awakened my bloodlust. She is only the first.

~The Wafflenet Slicer

The townsperson gasped and screamed, then finally worked the lock and flung open the door.

"Penny is dead!" he shrieked to the crowd, most of whom were still ogling at Mony. "And we don't just have the mafia in town anymore! It seems as if we now have a serial killer, as well!"

Penny Marie Mahb was an innocent townsperson-- but also a member of the FREEMASONS, a clandestine organization in which the members are close as kin. Freemasons have no special skills... but those within the fold know the identities of other freemasons, and that all freemasons are innocent.

[Draco]

Alex Louis Rockefeller was walking around town, waiting for the soon to be duel. He was nervous. He was scared. He was getting a bit thirsty. Out of most places in town, he did actually have a few places he liked to go. So now it was time to get himself some tea! He walked his way over to the shop where there was a crowd all ready outside.

"Great, they can be over here crowding the place, but they can't be waiting for my duel?"

He pushes his way through the crowd when someone bursts out screaming about death. Penny's death. His favorite person to make him tea! His own mother couldn't make him tea the way he liked! What was he going to drink now that she was gone? Why are the killers of the town only after the food peasants?!

"The pony..."

He walked off to the bakery. The last food place that he could think of, and still alive.

"I wonder if she has anything to drink..."

[Chao]

“Hi Kay. I was sent here for a pick-up delivery, is that right?”

Kay looked up from her laptop, ashamed that she had been too occupied with her website to even notice the messenger enter. Not good. Someone might enter unnoticed and steal some dangerous medicine. Or even worse – the Mafia might enter and kill her and she would not even notice them until it was too late.
Shaking herself out of the beginning paranoia, Kay donned a smile. “Hi Julie! Good to see you. And yes, I have some things which need to be delivered which I can’t do myself currently. Mrs. Miller on Hedge Farm needs this salve for her rheumatism and Mrs. Jenkins in Blankstreet needs the medicine for her baby’s whooping cough. It came yesterday, but I never got around to bring it to her.”

Just then Diana, the nosy historian entered. This time Kay did notice her right away. “Good morning,” she offered as greeting.

The historian entered right into historical investigation mode. “Pardon me; I want to talk to you about the murders that occurred. Yes, it's probably a bad memory but sacrifices have to be made so that this event is easier for future historians to write about and fit into the greater narrative. This latest death, what can you tell me about it and what do you feel about it? Are you compelled to go out and murder somebody who you think may be responsible and why is that so? And do not accuse me of being a journalist, I have had that before and I am far above that. My interest is quite literally academic.”

Kay was not sure whether to be annoyed or amused at those questions, but decided that finding humour in the situation would make the day perhaps a bit more bearable. “Mony’s death? I can’t tell you how he met his end. Or when she died or other such details. I was fast asleep while it happened. Side effect of pain killers,” Kay explained. “As for actually going out and murder someone in retaliation…” She pointed at her patched up ankle. “I think this it not really possible for me. Though I’d like to see the ones responsible for Mony’s death brought to justice. Perhaps not as gruesome as the attempt yesterday… I mean, Wafflenet, despite the detective’s absence, still has a nice holding cell!”

Before Kay could offer more TV-gleaned wisdom as to how to act in case of unsolved crimes, a shrill shriek, loud enough to even wake the dead in the freezer – metaphorically speaking, of course – was heard. Penny had died. And not at the Mafia’s hands. Kay gasped in shock and quickly grabbed the top of her counter. If not for already sitting in a chair, she might have found herself on the floor, seeing how weak her knees suddenly felt. “Penny,” she moaned. “No, no, no! And poor Maurice…” And she wondered if this other murderer had killed the only cat Kay was not allergic to as well.

[Robyn]

The town was horribly quiet, with the last announcements of Mony's departure having fizzled out over the last hour or so. Dove walked through the town, shoulders hunched, seeing things that she'd never seen before as she scanned the little houses that bordered the shops. Shutters locked. Windows barred. All this in a square where before no one even bothered to shut their doors all the way. She hated to admit it, but Robyn was right. They were losing their trust. Her own suspicions and paranoia were balling themselves up into a disgusting, sour little pit in her heart, and she hated herself for it. These were her friends (sort of), and this was her home, for Miyazaki's sake. There had to be something she could do...

The neon-edged sign of Waffles, No Nets loomed above her, and staring up at it, Dove felt rather small and extremely guilty. Mony had just died that morning. It wouldn't be the same. In a rare moment of social clarity, she turned and stepped away from the store and rubbernecking crowd, truly understanding the meaning of the phrase "too soon". Her stomach grumbled its protests, however, and she knew she was going to have to get something to eat to calm her nerves.

Perhaps just a drink would tide her over? She did just eat a hearty breakfast. There was a little cafe in the bookstore she never really visited, but she remembered the barista as being a nice, pretty girl who was exceptionally tolerant of Dove's raging otaku lifestyle.

She was pondering the potential success of opening Wafflenet's first-ever maid cafe and approaching the nearby building when a terrified man burst out of the door and rushed past her.

"Penny is dead!" he shrieked to the crowd, most of whom were still ogling at Mony. "And we don't just have the mafia in town anymore! It seems as if we now have a serial killer, as well!"

Dove's face drained of color, and against her own will, she took a quick glance inside before the door closed. Blood splattered the walls and disappeared underneath the counter.

She couldn't help it. Her face crumpled, and she stalked away around the corner of the building, planted her back against the wall, and cried. With the way things were going, she was going to have to take up with her cousin for all of eternity, the country doomed to suffer without her genius forever more. She sank down until she was sitting amongst the grit and gravel of the alley, sniffing quietly, when she heard a familiar noise from above.

"Curoo! Curoooo!"

Dove looked up and saw that the small bevy of doves she'd released this morning were perched in the gutter of the next building over. Weakly, she lifted and splayed her fingers. The doves flapped down to alight gently on her hand, which she then plopped down on her knees, defeated.

"Not Penny-chan. If they got Penny, they're heartless enough to get anybody, and anybody includes me, Dove-kawaii-sama."

She stroked one of her birds' heads, and it cooed softly in contentedness.

"At least," she quavered, "at least I got to throw Osi off of a roof."

[Gelquie]

Julie picked up the medical items from Kay as she received them, and she glanced at each of the bottles and memorized what their labels looked like so that she wouldn't mix them up. She nodded and managed to give Kay a weak smile, though the smile was traced with some pity as she caught sight of Kay's leg. "I'll be sure to bring it to them as--" She yawned. "As soon as I can. But your leg... Whatever happened, I hope it feels better soon."

It was then that the historian came in, and Julie waved to her before hearing her talk. She had met the historian from time to time, mostly for interviews on history and the like. Julie didn't usually mind. She only wished that Diana wouldn't smoke around her when she did; the cigarette smoke is horrible for her singing voice. This time, however, Julie couldn't help but frown in annoyance at Diana's questions and her critical analysis. Couldn't she be more sympathetic? Everyone was having a hard enough time already.

Thankfully, Kay managed to speak up before she did, and in the process, she caught the name of the one who died. Mony, the owner of Waffles No Nets. A source for stability in that establishment, even if she could never figure out whether Mony was a he or a she. She remembered talking to them on occasion when she came by for a waffle or some other delicacy when needed. And now they were dead too. ...And why did Chet call them a Benedict Arnold?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a shriek from outside.

"Penny is dead! And we don't just have the mafia in town anymore! It seems as if we now have a serial killer, as well!"

Julie stood there in shock for a long moment before she almost fell into Kay's desk. She barely managed to catch herself in time, but even then, she relied entirely on the desk for support.

"Another one...?" She wondered aloud. She stood there for some time, breathing at a quicker rate and looking a little bit pale. She couldn't deny she wasn't feeling well, but who would be feeling well with all the murders going on?

After a few moments, she managed to compose herself enough to stand straight again. Something to eat. She needed something in her stomach. Something to ground her. Anything. Her delivery job could wait long enough for her to get something in her system that could help her figure this out.

It was then that she saw Diana out of the corner of her eye, and she realized that she was probably still waiting for an answer. She let out a sigh before turning to the historian.

"The deaths..." Julie began. "They've been piling up more and more during the past two days. This town was so peaceful, and then things just suddenly... turned. I-I don't think I can bring myself to kill anyone; I'm just a musician! But... I still don't want to leave. This place has been wonderful to me in all the times before now, the best place for my music. But... I don't know what's going to happen. ...I don't know what I'm going to do."

Julie put the medications in her pack and began heading towards the door. "I'll get the deliveries done soon, Kay, and I'll come back when it's done. I just need to eat something first. I haven't eaten all day."

This was mostly true. But she did leave out one important thing. The fact that she desperately needed coffee.

[Jayeee]

It was amazing what OFFICER PYTHON could miss while he was struggling to change his uniform. After he was thrown out of the Waffle, No Nets diner, OFFICER PYTHON had staggered all the way back to the edge of town. He was relieved to see that the dead body he'd fallen over before had been removed - he'd liked to have seen the women struggling to carry that one.

Of course, he'd fallen straight asleep as soon as he reached his car. It had been getting late and he needed his handsome sleep. He was used to being brought breakfast in bed by some woman whose name he couldn't be bothered to learn, but instead he woke to nothing. But a new day meant a new chance to find a potential marriage candidate. He was getting close to just crossing off all the names on his list, Wafflenet was such a forward place, all the women did things. He was embarrassed just to be in their company. But if he could destroy the willpower of just one woman, then he'd be satisfied. Once they were all quivering in the palm of his hand, OFFICER PYTHON could move on and bring his talents to even more women who thought they were equal to someone like him.

It had taken him a while to change out of his police uniform - OFFICER PYTHON was nothing if not meticulous in his appearance and that meant that every aspect had to be considered. Women were so petulant and picky, he had to be sure that everything was perfectly dashing.

When he finally emerged from his car, PYTHON BALBOA punched the air and immediately made his way to the town square. It was the perfect uniform to excite Wafflenet; a uniform that consisted of only a pair of boxer shorts, some boxing gloves hanging around his neck, and a water bottle filled with beer that he carried in his hand. OFFICER PYTHON had been quite the catch, but PYTHON BALBOA knew that the only way to get a woman to react was to show some skin. They were simple creatures after all.

PYTHON BALBOA had taken some artistic liberty and added a headband too, just to cover the wound he'd suffered from Mony's water pitcher. But he'd left the dried blood that had run down his face because that just made him look even hotter. He could always force some woman to clean him up later, after all.

As PYTHON BALBOA jogged towards the town square - working up a sweat because that only added to the uniform's effect - he realised that maybe it would be a good idea to visit the pharmacy and grab something for the cut on his head. If it became infected, the entire female population would weep for him, and that'd just cause a flood. He was always looking out for the environment.

He reached the pharmacy after a short while of searching, and flung open the door as hard as he could. He spotted Kay O and Diana immediately.

"Hey babes, looks like you hit the jackpot today." He flashed a smile. "PYTHON BALBOA is looking to punch his way into your heart. Literally." He punched the air a few times before bounding forward up to the counter.

PYTHON BALBOA reached over the counter and patted Kay O on the head. "Is your daddy at home to deal with a customer? PYTHON BALBOA knows that you're having fun playing pharmacy dress-up or whatever, but it's time for the men to deal with things, okay?"

He turned to Diana. "PYTHON BALBOA remembers you. You were totally in love with PYTHON BALBOA. He always forgets the faces of women, but you were a special case. Trying to read and all that. PYTHON BALBOA thinks that since writing is such a passive pastime, you could write PYTHON BALBOA's autobiography. That'd be like, your life's best work, what do you think, dollface?"

He felt the cut on his head throb. "Oh, PYTHON BALBOA just remembered." he drank a mouthful of beer from the water bottle, and with the other hand he trailed his fingers down his torso and stomach. "Which one of you lucky little ladies wants to cover PYTHON BALBOA in lotion? PYTHON BALBOA saw some mud outside, why don't you all go and fight it out in that?"

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

Fluffle was in a cave that was dripping tepid water from its stalactites, climbing a seemingly endless stairway...she'd reached the top...a tall wooden structure...a rope hanging off it...fashioned into a pretty necklace...that looked deadly...she was pushed...PBBLT! she'd said in protest. This necklace was awful flattering, but again, IT WAS BUILT FOR HUMANS, NOT INCREDIBLY FLUFFY PONIES! A sharp, heavy push, and her neck fell right through it, as did the rest of her, and she was falling....falling...


Fluffle awoke with a start and a high-pitched neigh. Her drool trailed all over the counter. Evidently, the abnormal amount of fluff near her face was less prominent around her face and didn't soak any of it up. What a strange dream...


Alex stared at her. When did he get there? Fluffle knelt on two hooves, which had gotten easier since she'd met him. She smiled at him. Apart from her most regular customer, Ginz, Alex was her favorite person to see. He always commanded her to come close so he could pet her like a kitten, and she loved every moment. She also functioned as his "Pink Royal Footstool" when he felt like it. Their relationship was a symbiotic one--she could tell him anything, and be petted at that.

"Pbblbbblt!" she greeted him cheerfully, then remembered her dream, and the words she'd heard in it. She continued to hear them now, as a matter of fact..

"Penny is dead! And we don't just have the mafia in town anymore! It seems as if we now have a serial killer, as well!"

Ginz. Dan. Alex.

No.

Fluffle nuzzled against Alex mournfully, then, as quickly as she could, packed a too-large batch of cupcakes, and carefully carried them with her front two hooves on a tray, so as not to get any fur in the frosting. Normally, she would charge double for this extra care, but this was no time for charging those in need.

Slowly, slowly, she hobbled on her rear legs toward the Maphia's place. She placed the cupcakes on the doorstep and knocked.

*knock knock knock* "PBBLT!" *knock knock knock* "PBBLT!" *knock knock knock* "PBBLT!"

The color of the wispy fluff drained from Fluffle's face. She couldn't bear to see her best customer looking too sad just yet. Fluffle's heart, two sizes too large, would explode.

Teary-eyed, she galloped back toward the bakery, where Alex was waiting for her, slightly annoyed at her desertion.

She nuzzled him, asking (very humbly, of course, as he was noble in her eyes) to be hugged. He gladly obliged her, and asked her to get him something to drink.

How was she to turn him down? Fluffle pulled a lever of what looked like a soda machine, and out came a frothy, light brown, slightly viscous substance.

She tilted her head. "Pbbltbbb?" (which roughly translates to, "We serve shakes now?") Whatever.

Fluffle put a cherry on top of the shake, inserted a bendy straw (just the way he liked it), and circled about five to....thirty four times before settling at Alex's feet....

[Chao]

After waving Julie a goodbye, Kay turned her attention back to Diana. She was about to ask her, what she - historian aside - thought of the situation, when the door was opened again. Kay inwardly groaned when she saw who was making an appearance.

"Remember, humour is the key to a successful day", she mumbled over and over again as her new personal mantra. Though she doubted it would work with Melvin... Okay, yes, she had a lot of funny ideas in her mind as reply to his horrible utterings, but she doubted he would even understand the humour, much less appreciate it... Things like 'Sorry, we are out of substances with which to treat your apparant acratia' or a little less veiled 'Sorry, we are out of brain pills to treat your severe case of witlessness'. Or she could answer the question about her father and tell him that he was lucky that her daddy was not here... 1) Because her dad could not tell apart an aspirin from raticide and 2) because her dad did not like it when men talked in this way to his daughters. He then took those lovely men on a long flight after which these men came back home with better manners... Her dad was flight instructor and loved to show those boys what a plane was capable of in terms of manouevres. Okay, so far he had only to threaten her sister's wannabe-boyfriends with this, but well...

But then it occurred to Kay that Melvin obviously had not yet heard of his sister's passing. Not even Melvin Mahb was so cold as to act like nothing had happened when his sister Penny had been murdered by the self-named Wafflenet Slicer. And while breaking this news to him was in no way humorous, it was the right thing to do.
"I am sorry for your loss, Melvin. Your sister Penny was such a nice girl. And to loose her in so tragic a way. I'm truly sorry."

[Avery]

Like, no one in the crowd had offered to buy Britknee's farm, which was sad in and of itself; but then like, out of nowhere, one of the townspeople had barreled out of Penny's shop and like, said that Penny was dead! Dead! Another dead! Britknee couldn't believe it. She sniffled and squeaked. At like, this rate, everyone in town would be dead like, super soon... including her. Gosh, why was life so like, unfair?

Then, inexplicably, Britknee's stomach rumbled. Like, what? She totes didn't ever want to eat again, but then she realized that if she like, starved to death, that would be being dead also! And being dead was bad whether it was murder or starving!

Looking around, Brit knew that like, Penny's shop was out. And after seeing bodies stuffed into the freezer at Waffles, No Nets, that was out, too. Which left... the bakery. Where the horsie had basically force-fed her yesterday. Britknee wasn't thrilled with the idea of going back there but like, oh well.

"Let's go, Snuggles," she said, striding over and pressing open the door that led inside.

((NARRATOR NOTE: Reminder, the deadline for execution votes is in about three and a half hours! Please make sure to have your vote in by then!))

[Dan]

Don Dan Maphia slept in late. He was missing work, sure, but as the alarm blared far too early to his liking, he figured that after the day they'd had yesterday, his employers would cut him a little slack. It's not like today would be the day he'd make some breakthrough on the concrete shoes his company wanted, he reasoned. Those things were dead in the water.

So he slept. Dreamt. His subconscious returned him to the recurring dream he had whenever he was stressed (which meant that for Don Dan this was a near-nightly dream). He was scuba diving, weaving in and around coral reefs, schools of fish, turtles, crabs, eels...it was pleasant. It always was as the dream began, but with a flash the dream shifted. He felt himself growing groggy; his head weighed a ton. If he could just close his eyes for a little bit...but no. No, he couldn't, not here. He'd drown. Sleeping underwater, among the wildlife? Insanity.

On and on he fought his urge to fall asleep, until--

*knock knock knock* "PBBLT!" *knock knock knock* "PBBLT!" *knock knock knock* "PBBLT!"

He woke with a jolt. Was that knocking? He glanced at the alarm clock. Nearly midday. How could that be? How had he let himself sleep this long? With a glance he saw that Ginz had already woken and left the bedroom, and he felt a pang of loneliness. He wished he knew what she was doing, where she was. He felt very distant from his wife since the difficult events of the day prior.

He stood, grabbed his bathrobe, and made for the front door. No one waited for him on the other side, but there was a small pink box on their stoop. With a peek inside he found cupcakes. Strange. But no matter. He needed to find his wife, and after discovering that she was not anywhere in the house or on their farm, he had to work up the nerve to head into town once more.

***

The town square was becoming an increasingly hostile place, yet it was the only location he felt truly protected.

He sat on a bench stiffly, near the spot where the night before he had inadvertently set a mob on a path that'd killed one of their own. He eyed the place where he stood just a handful of hours before with half measures of trepidation and outright fury. What was happening here?

He did not think it was possible, but the twin deaths of the morning had left him even more shaken than the day before. He'd never really trusted the diner owner, who seemed to be hiding something deeply broken underneath that pleasant exterior, but he supposed it very well could have just been his own odd reactions to Mony's peculiar effect on him. But he certainly didn't wish death on him. And Penny. He didn't even have the right words to describe how he felt about her death. He wasn't sure he ever would. It was too close, too near to his heart. He had only known her a few months, but she was the sweetest, most unassuming soul he'd met in this town. And he had slept through his only chance to help her. To target her...he felt cold. The bench was cold. His heart was cold.

He surveyed the townspeople milling around in the midday sun. What else was there to do? He couldn't try to talk to them calmly anymore. It wouldn't work for one thing, as the previous night had proven. But he doubted he could even try to remain calm himself after finding out about Penny. He dreaded the moment when he and his wife reunited; he didn't think he could bear to see her reaction.

So he stayed where he was. Watching the others. Maybe someone would come and talk to him, give him something more productive to do. But if not, he would continue to watch, to see if anyone was up to anything fishy. He told himself it was to ensure the safety of himself, his wife, and the other townspeople. But he knew the reality.

The reality was he didn't think he could get up from the bench and keep on living.