Birdy's Mafia III Fanfic Thread

[Birdy]

Mafia III has given me far too many mental images and headcanons.

Therefore I have created a thread dedicated to them. 8D

This'll have anything from canon scenes that just never made it into the RP (because of time or... well, more likely spoilers as to rolls and such), to AUs, to...well, basically anything fanficy and related to Mafia III. XD;


Dunno how often this'll update, but yeah. Should be a fun little thing to keep me occupied. 8D


WARNING: VIRTUALLY ALL FICS HERE WILL HAVE SPOILERS, SUCH AS FOR ROLE REVEALS, PLOT TWISTS, AND PLOT DETAILS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

*noms popcorn and watches* OvO

[Birdy]

What's this? Birdy wrote a Maifa fic?!

Yes, she did!

Considering that January 2nd marked the start of the anniversary of the events of Mafia III, I decided to do some behind-the-scenes work and write about Hermia's thoughts and feelings of what was going on during the narrator posts she was a part of. \ o /

Now, naturally, considering the nature of such fics, there will be spoilers! Spoilers for plot twists, role reveals, what happened during the game... so be forewarned. If you haven't yet read Mafia III, and want to be surprised by such things, I advise not reading these fics. =D;

To start off, I bring you one of the saddest events in the whole game.

Please take a moment of silence for...


The Tragic Loss of the Thunder Thighs

SPOILER: Click to show

Three members of the Abominable Aifam walked down the ramp to the beach, Travis Richem confidently leading (and narrating) the way.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hermia hissed at Nathan, casting a quick glance at the man in front of them. “Letting him handle the knife, I mean?”

Nathan sighed. “No,” he admitted. “But if I have to listen to him complain one more time about how the ‘extras’ are starting to outshine him…”

“Fair enough, I guess…” Hermia muttered, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat.

She sighed. At least Piper was busy with the investigation papers. After how much she’d protested against killing Dr. Robinson, it wouldn’t have been good for her to be here as well. And on the upside, with multiple mafiosos having access to the papers, perhaps any incriminating evidence could just… “disappear”.

But there would be time to worry about whatever happened with the papers later. They were here. It was time.

Dr. Marie Robinson was salvaging some scrap metal from Aaron Greenhand’s wrecked car, which still lay on the beach. (Though the man’s body had long since been moved to the morgue.) Hermia swallowed and tried not to focus on that – on how she had been the one to cut the brake line earlier that same morning, in the predawn hours…

Dr. Robinson didn’t even notice they’d approached until Nathan spoke.

“Having fun there, Dr. Robinson?”

She froze and looked up, startled.

“Oh, hello,” she said. “I—I know the utility men said to stay away, but they’re on their lunch break anyhow, and I… figured it wouldn’t hurt, you know?”

“Oh, surely, surely,” he agreed, nodding amicably.

It was then that she noticed the knife in Travis’ hand and paled, her jaw dropping in disbelief.

“W-what….” Her voice trailed off. She was at a loss for words. Finally, though, she did speak – to Travis.

“What happened to your face, Mr. Richem?” she murmured, noting the bruises inflicted earlier that day by multiple disgruntled townspeople.

“Why would you care, Gemma?” he whined. “Clearly my emotions don’t matter to you, since you haven’t even returned one of my phone calls since our romantic night last autumn, when my thunder thighs and your sweetness made for love!”

Marie blinked. “I—what?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love me, Gemma!” he sobbed.

Hermia rolled her eyes, arms crossed across her chest.

“Travis,” she chided, “do it already, before the utility men return from their lunch break.”

The sooner he got this over with, the sooner they could leave.

“D-do what?” Marie stammered, looking on in disbelief and denial.

Travis didn’t respond. He only strode confidently over to the still-kneeling Marie – with an odd lack of narration – and crouched before her. He arched the knife across her throat.

…But the cut was not clean. Having missed the vital vein, the wound was not instantly fatal, as it should have been, and Marie instinctively clutched a hand over it.

Hermia hissed. “Travis, you idiot,” she growled. “Can’t you do anything ri—”

The words broke off into a choking sound, for at that moment, Dr. Robinson had grabbed a long, jagged piece of metal from the car and stabbed in into Travis’ chest, hitting his heart.

He barely had time to sputter out a shocked “Gemma!” before crumpling into the sand, dead.

Nathan and Hermia could only gape in shock and horror at the scene before them. Finished with Travis, Marie staggered to her feet and lurched towards them.

“Gun,” Hermia squeaked, referring to the pistol they carried in case things went badly. And things were indeed going very badly. “Gun!”

Nathan fumbled the gun out of his pocket, took aim, and fired.

Bullseye.

Dr. Marie Robinson fell to the ground, landing across Travis’ body.

Silence.

“Hermia,” Nathan said, clearing his throat, “do you have the cards?”

She nodded mutely, still staring wide-eyed at the scene before them.

He nodded towards the bodies. “Better place one then.”

Hermia nodded again and stumbled forward. She was still trembling like a leaf when she placed the Ace of Hearts – Travis’ calling card – in Dr. Robinson’s pocket.

“Are we just going to leave him here?” she asked softly, still kneeling in the sand.

“Yes,” Nathan said. “We have to. The utility people will be back soon. We can’t linger here. Come on,” he added, motioning for her to follow as he turned to leave.

Hermia didn’t move, still staring at the bodies.

“Hermia, come on.”

Still she stayed put.

Sighing in exasperation, Nathan marched over, grabbed Hermia by the arms, and pulled her to her feet. “Come on,” he hissed, marching her down the beach.

They were out of sight, and not a moment too soon. Only minutes after they’d left, the utility workers returned, and found the results of the Abominable Aifam’s botched murder.

***

Later that night…

Hermia lay on her bed in her room at the Stallion Inn. After everything that had happened today… she needed some rest.

Rest, however, was proving tricky to find.

The events of earlier that day, on the beach, kept playing in her mind, as if on repeat.

“Travis, you idiot, can’t you do anything right?”

Those had been her last words to Travis. The last words he’d ever heard, other than his own.

She squoze her eyes shut. Granted, they’d been justified. He’d deserved them. But still… for the last words you say to someone to be those of hated, and then they die…

Her thoughts were interrupted, though, by the ringing of her phone. Reluctantly, she picked it up from the table beside the bed where she lay, and flipped it open, raising it to her ear.

“Hello?” she said, her voice tired and strained.

“It’s me,” came Nathan’s voice from the other end of the line. “Are you—how are you doing? I hope you’re holding up okay.”

“We should have never let him handle the knives,” she replied softly as she rubbed her eyes with her free hand. Her voice was laced with regret. “He was too—he was…” She trailed off. Even now she didn’t want to say it.

“An idiot?” Nathan filled in, guessing what she was thinking.

“Yes.”

She laughed sadly. “I didn’t think I’d miss him but…”

“We’ll take the night off,” he said. “Get a night’s rest, okay? We’ll regroup in the morning.”

Hermia nodded, though no one could see. “Goodnight.”

Hermia waited until she heard the soft click from the other end, then closed her phone and sat it back on the sidetable.

At least the Chill of the Night had decided to take the night off as well. She didn’t think she could manage hiding things tonight – not after what had happened on the beach…

She closed her eyes and sighed. Tomorrow would be another day. The Mafias would regroup, and then…

She grimaced.

Then they’d kill again.

More death, more blood.

She swallowed. The townsfolk were getting angry – worked up. And understandably so. But with these lynchings… who knew if they’d come after her next? And if they did come after her, and she did die…

She cringed. It would be bad. Very bad. They would find out everything, and then she’d have not only the town angry at her, but both Mafias as well. And certain people would be very unwise to make angry…

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

That wouldn’t happen. She’d do everything she could to make sure of it. She’d just have to be extra-careful, is all. No foolish mistakes. She could do this. She had to.

After all, she was in too deep to get out now…

Notes:

SPOILER: Click to show

Based on this narrator-post!

And the phone conversation came from this one.

Also Imma tag a few people who may find this interesting, such as:

The Abominable Aifam: Nathan! (Nova), Travis! (Jayeee), and Piper! (Lizica)

And our unfortunate victim: Dr. Marie Robinson! (Alyssa)


\ o /


Bonus:

SPOILER: Click to show

Behold! Travis Richem's obituary:

Local actor Travis Richem was found dead on Sirensong Beach early this afternoon, with a metal pike through his heart - obviously the work of a jealous lovers' spat, as he had many. His remains were found in the arms of one also-dead, identified only as "Gemma"; it is believed she was Mr. Richem's latest - and last - lover.

Mr. Richem was well-known in his community, and will not be forgotten. He was best known for his reality television show: Travis Richem IN YOUR FACE, with the entire town of Aifam Cove being the set.

Mr. Richem is survived by his old flames - Rachel, a local nun at The Church of the Most Blessed Weewoo Feather (who is rumoured to be the mother of his yet-unborn child); Linda, his next-door neighbour; Tiffany, local news reporter; and many others.

No date has yet been set for a memorial service. Rachel was unwilling to comment upon whether or not the services would be held at The Church of the Most Blessed Weewoo Feather, but did express hope that Mr. Richem was - despite being Mafia-aligned - safely in the wings of the Lord Woo, where he would (Woo willing) stay there for all eternity. (She was also reported to say a few other things about Mr. Richem, but as this is a family newspaper, we are unable to print them.)

[Birdy]

Another story!

...That technically should have been posted before the other one if we want things to be in chronological order, but OH WELL.


This one is about the Chill of the Night. After finding out who one of those meddling constables was, well. They couldn't have them continuing to gather information...


End of the Line

SPOILER: Click to show

The muffled sound of car parts being tampered with rang out into the night.

“Would you be quiet? We’re going to get caught.”

“I’m trying.”

“Well, try harder!”

Another clank – a wrench was dropped.

“Oh, for – here, let me.”

Professor Leland Bardsley was shoved aside, and Hermia Smith took his place in front of the car.

She examined the work that had been done so far and hissed.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” she said. “What were you even trying to do – keep it from even starting in the first place?”

With a disgusted sigh, Hermia retrieved the wrench and got down on the pavement, crawling underneath the car. Once positioned, she stuck her hand out from under the car. “Wrench.”

“You already have one.”

“Well, I need another! Wrench.”

Professor Bardsley sighed and handed it over.

“Thank-you.”

A few moments of silence passed, broken only by the sound of the automobile being tampered with, until finally Bardsley spoke again.

“If I may ask, Ms. Smith… How do you know so much about automobile mechanics in the first place?”

A moment of silence. At first, the Professor thought she wasn’t going to respond, but then, she did.

“My dad taught me,” she said, tone somewhat softer and more subdued. “He wanted me to know how to fix anything, so I’d never be stranded somewhere or taken advantage of because I was a girl.”

Professor Bardsley was silent. Ms. Smith was not one to talk about herself, so he felt listening was of utmost importance now.

“He also said it was so I could take over his business someday, if I wanted,” she continued. “He was a mechanic. But then…” her voice trailed off.

She was silent then, lost in thought. Finally, with a shake of her head, she spoke again.

“If you know how to fix something, then all you have to do is reverse that knowledge to break it.”

She lapsed back into silence.

“How’s it going?” came a third voice.

“Everything is fine, Mrs. Fitzgibbon,” the Professor replied.

The woman nodded and left to return to her post – she was keeping watch, waiting to alert her fellow Chill of the Night should anyone show up unexpectedly.

“Are you almost done?” the Professor asked, after Mrs. Alma Fitzgibbon has left.

A stifled, frustrated sigh. “No. Duct-tape.” A hand was now sticking out from underneath the car.

The Professor’s brow furrowed. “Duct-tape? Why would you need—”

“I’m improvising, okay? I don’t exactly have all the tools I need, so I’m doing the best I can with what I have. I’ve already cut the brake line, so now I’m taping it back together. With any luck, a slight pressing of the brakes will sill let them work – when he’s exiting his driveway, for example – but when pressed hard, such as to slow down around a corner, the tape should be ripped free, and I think you know what happens next. Now, duct-tape.”

The Professor slapped it into her hand.

“Thank-you.”

“You know,” he commented, “I’m not sure if duct-tape is the best choice. It’s seems so… tacky. Perhaps if you’d simply—”

A stifled growl.

“You think you can do a better job, prettyboy?” Hermia snapped, losing patience.

Professor Bardsley gave an indignant ‘harumph’.

“I was only trying to help,” he said.

“Like I told you, I know what I’m doing. If you’d rather be out snogging with your girlfriend, don’t let me stop you.”

Professor Bardsley nearly choked. “I— Mrs. Fitzgibbon and I are not together!” he sputtered. “She is a married woman – I have standards!”

“Oh, please,” Hermia said. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.” A pause. A smirk. A continuation. “And I’ve seen the way she looks at you…”

Could she had seen the Professor’s face, she probably would have snickered at how red it had turned.

Footsteps approached. A voice spoke.

“It’s starting to get light,” she said. “We would probably— …Professor, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he quickly replied, clearing his throat. “Yes, ah… we should hurry. Are you almost done, Ms. Smith?”

“Almost done,” she confirmed. “Just a few more finishing touches…”

The Professor nodded. “Good, good…” he said. “Time is of the essence, after all.”

“I’ll meet you two outside,” Mrs. Fitzgibbon said, turning to leave.

“Well see you then,” the Professor replied.

Silence again.

A slight chuckle.

“What?” Traces of irritability showed though the Professor’s voice.

“Oh, nothing…” Hermia said, finishing her work. She crawled back out from underneath the car, shirt stained with oil and other vehicular fluids. She wiped her hands on her pants. “We should probably get out of here,” she said. “Who knows when he’ll wake up.”

“A sound idea,” the Professor said. “Let’s go.”

And so the Chill of the Night disappeared into the dawn.

Notes:

SPOILER: Click to show

With many thanks to Avery for the title!

Tagging the Chills: Bardsley (PFA), Alma (Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)), and Lindsey (WE AVENGED YOOOOOOOU) (Ginz ❤).

And our Victim, Aaron Greenhand (sorry again, Kozma. ;_;): Kozma


Random headcanon: The Chill of the Night had already planted the string of snowflakes before tampering with the car. Hermia was the one to do it, being the smallest, and thus was the most likely to fit through the window.


Also, Almsley 5eva. *shotdead*

[Birdy]

YAY, another fic, finally!

I wanted to post this on the 5th, but. That didn't work out, whoops. xD;

Oh well.

Enjoy anyway. 8D

(Note: Brief mention of vomiting in the latter-most part of the story.)

Trapped

SPOILER: Click to show

After her walk that morning with Ms. Devon, Hermia had returned to Channel 24 News and Associates to get back to work on the latest edition of the Aifam Cove Weekly.

Shortly after lunchtime (which Hermia declined to take part in, still unsure if she was up for food after all the murder that was going on), one of phones in her bag buzzed. Pausing for a moment, she saved her work and fished out a flip-phone, opened it, and read the message.

It was from Alma.

The target is at the beach. It’s time to make our move.

Hermia frowned and put the phone away. The beach? What were they doing there? That didn’t seem like them…

But no matter. There’d be time to wonder about that later. Right now, they had a job to do.

***

Hermia soon met up with Alma and Bardsley at the top of one of the ramps down to the beach.

“You’re late,” he noted, frowning.

“Sorry,” Hermia apologized, adjusting the strap on the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulders. “I was at work and didn’t want to arouse anyone’s suspicion. They have cameras everywhere. And after Lindsey… I didn’t want to take any risks.”

“Fair enough,” was his reply, before turning and starting to walk down the ramp to the beach. “We’d better hurry,” he commented “Ms. Boudreaux might leave soon.”

Hermia stopped in her tracks. Had she really just heard the Professor say—?

“Boudreaux?” she echoed. “Piper Boudreaux?”

“Yes,” Professor Bardsley said, frowning as he stopped and turned to face Hermia. “We changed targets.”

“Wuh— buh— why?”

Bardsley’s frown deepened.

“Didn’t you get the message?”

Hermia only shook her head. This was not looking good…

Bardsley sighed. “We changed our target to Ms. Boudreaux because we fear she was too involved with the investigation papers,” he explained. “She might have seen something that could incriminate us. For all we know, she’s the other detective that’s been running about, and she was comparing her notes to his. Now come on,” he said, turning and continuing down the ramp.

Hermia swallowed and hurried to catch up.

This was not good. So very not good. So very not good at all…

“I… are you sure, though?” she asked, walking alongside the professor. “She- she never seemed to be much of a constable to me…”

“And how much have you spoken with her?” he queried.

“Um… W-well…” she stammered. “O-once or twice, I think…” Hermia nervously fidgeted with the strap of her bag. “But still… how much time would she have to investigate people if she’s always busy hunting Webster?”

Bardsley frowned. “We’re not changing targets,” he said, casting a suspicious glance towards her.

“I… I wasn’t saying that,” she lied. “It’s just… I’m not so sure this is the best idea. What if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing is going to go wrong,” Bardsley said. “She’s alone on the beach – what’s the worst that could happen?”

I can think of a few things… Hermia thought. And none of them are pleasant!

She opened her mouth to try and protest again, but was cut off by Bardsley, who raised his hand.

“Enough smalltalk,” he said, hearing a scream of complete and utter frustration not far away. “We’re here.”

And then there they were, standing at the edge of a complicated crab trap.

Piper, still muttering about Webster, brushed the sand and snow out of her hair, switched off her camera, and turned to leave, but then jumped upon seeing she wasn’t alone as she thought she had been.

“Oh, hello,” she said, traces of irritability in her voice.

“Hello,” Hermia replied coldly, much to Piper’s confusion. The crab-hunter’s brow furrowed, and she glanced from Hermia to the other two present. Before she could comment, though, Bardsley spoke.

“Nice camera you got there,” he said.

“Um, thank you,” Piper stammered, still unnerved. “Well I was just—headed off, so…”

“Oh, Piper, no. You’re not going anywhere.”

And then he held the gun.

Piper froze, eyes widening in disbelief. She glanced briefly at Hermia, as if silently asking why, but Hermia only looked away.

Then there was a flurry of movement – had Piper seriously just throw her camera on the ground?! – before—

“Look out!” Alma screamed, as Piper whipped out her own pistol and leveled it in their direction.

Hermia froze. There was only one thought in her mind when she saw the gun.

She’s going to kill me.

Everything started happening fast, then. Piper fired her pistol, and Hermia stiffened, fully expecting to feel the bullet piercing her heart. But the shot went wide. Bardsley fired back, and didn’t miss – his shot landing square between Piper’s eyes. She toppled, landing on top of her camera, the gun skittering out of her hands.

Everyone paused then to catch their breath. Bardsley sauntered over to the fallen woman’s side, with Alma following. Hermia just stood there, trembling.

Apparently Bardley had gotten suspicious due to Piper pulling a gun on them, and instead of just placing the chain of snowflakes and leaving, he began to search her body.

Oh, ‘Woo… Hermia thought, cringing and backing away. If he searched her pockets, then he was sure to find—

He did. A stack of playing cards, rubber-banded together. All Aces, all in various stages of being altered.

“Oh, 'Woo,” he breathed as he flipped through the cards. Then, an almost amused laugh. “I can’t believe… hey, where are you going?”

Hermia froze in her tracks, cursing under her breath before turning back to face him.

“I—” Hermia started, then coughed and tried again. “I… this was too much. We could have died! I just… need to be alone for a bit,” she said. Then after a quick glance around the beach, added, “You two should leave as well. In case someone heard the gunshot. And... you should leave the cards here. So that whoever finds her knows what she was.” If the town was going to find out anyway… might as well let it be this way.

“What about our calling card?” Bardsley asked, arching an eyebrow. “Should we leave one, or...?”

“I... you figure it out,” Hermia said, turning to leave once more. “I'm sorry, but I have to go.”

She didn’t give them a chance to protest. She just turned and left, pulling her coat tightly around her, while forcing herself not to run as she strode away. Finally she reached the ramp leading up from the beach, and climbed up it, immediately heading for the Stallion Inn.

Stay calm, she reminded herself as she walked up the steps to the Inn and opened the door. It would do no good for her to appear upset at this point.

Thankfully, she got to her room without coming in contact with anyone, and slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

Quickly walking across the room, she pulled off her scarf and gloves, and threw them on her bed.

And that’s when it hit her.

She tried to suppress it, to hold it back, but no matter how hard she tried – how hard she fought – it was to no avail.

Trembling, she sat down on the floor, buried her face in her hands, and started sobbing.

I’m sorry… she thought. Piper, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…

Upon hearing his owner’s sobs, her cat, Puck, jumped down from his perch on the dresser and came over to her, chirruping and butting his head against her arm. When that didn’t work, he began to rub against it and climb into her lap, purring loudly.

Choking back another sob, she reached down and absently began petting him, while struggling to get her emotions under control. It would do no good for someone to hear her breaking down like this.

Why didn’t I protest more? she wondered. Or try to stop him? I could have grabbed the gun, shouted at her to run, or something!

But deep down, she knew shy she hadn’t done anything. Why she just stood and watched someone else die, just like she always did.

Because she was a coward.

Taking a few deep breaths, she glanced at the clock, only to cringe. It was later than she thought – she was due to meet Nathan and Piper— …No, only Nathan now, in fifteen minutes.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up Puck and placed him on her bed, then removed her coat and dropped it beside him. He promptly sat down on it and curled up for a nap.

Stepping inside the bathroom, she washed her face in cool water to try and rid it of the redness and puffiness.

After taking a few more moments to calm herself down, she removed her cat from her coat (who protested loudly to losing a new bed that had obviously been placed there just for him), and put it on. Her scarf and gloves followed as she walked to the door.

She could only hope that Nathan wouldn’t notice anything was off.

***

“Where is that crab-hunting idiot?” Nathan groused, as he and Hermia lurked in an alley on Main Street, shivering in the cold.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s just distracted by Webster again,” muttered Hermia, blowing on her hands.

“Hm. I guess.” A sigh. “You okay there? You seem a little… off.”

Hermia mentally cursed.

“Only tired,” she replied, smiling thinly.

Then, a side door to Stop. Glamour Time! opened, and out stepped Leopold Endicott, a bag of dumpster-destined hair clippings cradled in his arms.

“Well, there’s our mark,” Hermia said, changing the topic. “I suppose we’ll just have to tell Piper about it... after.”

Nathan nodded and they both entered the alley. Hermia hung back, lurking near the entrance, standing watch for any passersby, as usual.

Soon, Leopold Endicott would be dead. Just like Piper. And Travis. And Enna. And everyone else in this town the Mafias had targeted.

…He didn’t deserve it. Nathan had suspicions that he was one of the constables, but Hermia had her doubts. Was she really going to stand here and let another innocent man be murdered?

Turning, she started walking into the alley.

“Wait,” she whispered.

But it was too late. The deed had been done, and Leopold Endicott lay dead, his throat slit. The blood was quickly pooling around his head, staining his hair red.

Hermia swallowed and looked away.

“Did you say something?” Nathan asked, stooping to clean the knife on the stylist’s shirt.

“I… n-no,” Hermia said. “No, I didn’t say anything…”

Nathan shrugged. “Must’ve imagined it,” he said, sticking an Ace of Spades in the shirt pocket of their victim.

“Y-yeah…” Hermia said. “Maybe so…”

Moments later, Hermia and Nathan slipped out of the alley. He returned to his teahouse, and Hermia to the Stallion Inn.

Hermia’s mind buzzed as she walked back to the Inn.

Lindsey was dead. Travis was dead. Now Piper was dead, too.

That left four mafiosos, if she counted herself.

She swallowed and opened the front door of the Inn, and slipped inside.

She needed a distraction, but she didn’t feel up to going back to work right now. She just had to get away for a while – from everything.

But it was not to be. When she entered her room, memories, unbidden, came back to her, of all the people who had died, of all the blood…

She ran for the bathroom and threw up in the sink. When it was finally over, she laid her head on the cool faucet and tried to still her trembling, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, things were spiraling out of control.

She could not afford to lose any more allies – and certainly not from the Abominable Aifam.

She took a deep breath. She’d just have to be careful, is all. More observant. And be extra sure not to miss any more messages…

Nothing else is going to go wrong, she told herself, as she rinsed her mouth. You’ll be fine, you’ll get through this.

There would be no more mistakes, no more allies dying.

She’d make sure of it.

Notes:

SPOILER: Click to show

Tagging those involved/mentioned in the story:

Chill of the Night: Bardsley (PFA), and Alma (Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)).

Abominable Aifam: Nathan (Nova).

And the victims: Piper (Lizica), and Leo (Liou).


And once again, thanks to Carrie (Avery) for the title!


Also, an appearance by Hermia's cat! \ o /

...I barely mentioned the poor thing in-RP. ^^;

In case anyone's interested, he's a Tonkinese:




And appearance looking more like a Siamese - so according to the video, platinum/solid? (I think. I dunno. xD;)

Butyeah. Yay for Hermia's cat getting screentime! \ o /

[Birdy]

Yay, another fic! (Finally. xD; )

I think the title speaks for itself. =D


Bye-bye, Bardsley

SPOILER: Click to show

Hermia had finally felt up to going back to work. (Or, well, up enough that she thought she could hide any odd actions.)

She’d been playing with the layout for the memorial section she was planning when she got the idea.

Instead of writing the obituaries herself, why not get the ghosts to help? Get them to tell a bit about themselves, how and why they came to Aifam Cove, a favourite memory of the place… That way it would be a literal wall of memory – their thoughts, preserved for all time, instead of a single brief paragraph about how so-and-so did such-and-such and will be dearly missed, etc. etc. etc., blah blah blah.

Her search, however, had proven fruitless. (Or, mostly fruitless. She had come across Professor Bardsley trying to move the body of Leopold Endicott to the morgue, all the while being accosted by various ghosts, but since they were otherwise occupied, she decided to take her search elsewhere.)

A glance at the sky told Hermia it would be dark soon. She’d spent the entire afternoon hunting for ghosts. If she wanted to get some rest before the Mafia met that night, she’d better hurry back to the Inn. There was no sense in the—

In the…

Hermia froze in her tracks.

She’d completely forgotten which Mafia was meeting that night.

Was it the Abominable Aifam?

Or Chill of the Night?

Cursing under her breath, Hermia glanced around to be sure she was alone before pulling out a small flip-phone from her bag. Scrolling through the few contacts, she came across Alma’s alias. She hesitated, then hit the “call” button, lifting the phone to her ear. Of all the remaining Mafia, she figured Alma would be the most understanding.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” she muttered, listening to the rings. “Alma, pick up…”

She didn’t. Hermia gave another muffled curse as she hung up. Alma had to have a good reason for not answering. As much as she hated to admit it, she only had one choice now. And after the way she’d acted on the beach…

Stifling a groan, she found Bardsley’s alias in the phone and sent a text message.

Are we still meeting tonight?

She hesitated, then hit ‘send’.

No sooner had she closed the phone, than she got the reply. Flipping it open, she read it.

Yes.

She couldn’t help but grimace. So it was Chills…

And after everything that happened on the beach, and now this…

‘Woo, it’d be a miracle for Bardsley or Alma not to notice something…

Sighing, she typed out her reply.

Great. See you there.

***

After even more fruitless searching, Hermia finally gave up. It was almost time for the meeting, anyway, and she could not afford to be late – not after what had happened earlier.

Passing Dywight Antiques on her way, she paused and looked inside in case Anna was haunting her old shop. But no such luck.

Sighing, Hermia turned to continue her journey, but stopped in her tracks when she saw two people – workers from the morgue, she assumed – dragging a body bag out of the Burger Hut of all places.

…Oh, ‘Woo… Hermia thought, knowing Morty worked there. Did he seriously—? INSIDE the Burger Hut?!

Sighing, she knew there was only one way to find out, at least right away. Muttering under her breath, she adjusted the strap of her bag and stalked towards the restaurant.

She paused again, however, when Cheryl and her cameraman left. She did… not look happy. Waiting until they had climbed into the van and left, Hermia finally made it to the Burger Hut.

Slipping into a nearby booth, she listened to the murmured conversations buzzing around the Hut, trying to garner what had happened, while trying not to notice the pool of blood still on the floor.

“…can’t believe he was Mafia.”

“I know, he was so respected around town, too…”

“Guess it’s true what they say: ‘Beware the Nice Ones’.”

“I guess so. But still… the Professor?”

Hermia froze.

Professor? Surely they didn’t mean professor Bardsley, of all people…

Swallowing hard, she continued to listen in hopes of hearing just how, exactly, they’d managed to discover he was in the Mafia.

The people quieted, though, when one of the Burger Hut employees stalked by. Hermia pretended to be interested in the menu in front of her. As luck would have it, he stopped right beside her booth.

Oh, ‘Woo… she thought. Stay calm, Hermia.

“Morty was right,” he said. “He was Mafia…” He held a flip-phone, examining it. “And all the proof was right here on his phone.”

…On his phone? How had they…

The worker – Benjamin, Hermia noted, from a quick glance at his nametag – flipped open the phone and began to read the texts aloud.

“’Are we still meeting tonight?’”

Hermia’s blood chilled, and her face turned white.

“’Yes.’,” he continued, followed quickly by, “’Great. See you there.’”

Hermia forced herself to breathe normally, not to wheeze. She dearly hoped that no one would take notice of how pale she had turned.

Oh, ‘Woo… she thought. Oh ‘Woo, Oh ‘Woo, Oh ‘Woo…

She gripped the menu tightly, silently willing her hands to stop shaking.

It was her fault. That message… it was her’s. She was the reason the Professor had been found out.

“Hey…” Benjamin spoke again, looking at the phone thoughtfully, at the last message that had been sent. “I wonder what would happen if I tried calling this number… Maybe we could catch another one of the mafia!”

Hermia nearly choked, but covered it with a cough.

Oh no… Oh, please no…

She could only watch in silent horror out of the corner of her eye as he hit “redial” and brought the phone to his ear.

Beside her, on the booth’s bench, deep within her bag, she could just hear a phone start to buzz.

She could have cried. Someone was going to hear it, she just knew it, and then they’d wonder why she wasn’t answering it and get suspicious, and then they’d search her bag, and if they found out she had THREE phones…

Finally, mercifully, upon receiving no answer, Benjamin stopped trying and hung up, muttering something about trying again later before turning and leaving, going back into the back of the restaurant.

Shaking, Hermia forced herself to take normal breaths. It would do no good to panic now.

Her head was spinning. She needed air. If she passed out…

Still trying to breathe normally, Hermia slipped out of the booth, shouldered her bag, and headed for the door.

No one tried to stop her.

Upon stepping out into the cold, crisp air, Hermia took a deep breath. The cold burned her nose and made her lungs ache, but she didn’t care.

She had to get away.

Turning, she headed for the only place she could think of to go: her room at the Stallion Inn.

Upon arriving, she locked the door behind her and began to pace, her cat watching lazily from perch on her dresser.

This was… this was bad. Very bad.

If she didn’t count herself, there was only one member of each Mafia left.

And as much as she hated to admit it… they couldn’t go on like this. One-and-a-half against one-and-a-half? No. They would never be able to survive. But maybe together…

Hermia swallowed. To unite the mafias, however… that would involve admitting everything. That she’d been playing both sides all this time.

How long had it been now? She’d nearly lost count…

But now…

Sighing shakily, she knew she had no choice. No matter how she may wish there was another way, that she could just keep them separated… she knew it wasn’t possible.

Taking out the phone she used to communicate with the Chill of the Night, she typed out a message to Alma and hit send.

meet me @ beach asap—bottom of north ramp.

Nathan soon received an identical one, but from her other phone – the one for the Abomionble Aifam.

After putting the latter away, she stared at the Chills phone. It was compromised now – others had the number, and had called it and would only continue to do so. She couldn’t risk keeping it around. It had to be destroyed.

Her hand clenched around it.

If only Bardsley hadn’t been so unpredictable… none of this would have happened.

If he hadn’t insisted on changing targets, Piper would still be alive, and the problem of whether or not to merge the Mafias would never have even come up.

This was all his fault.

He was the one who suggested tampering with Aaron’s car, to avenge Lindsey. He was the one who changed targets at the last minute, sealing Piper’s fate. He was the one who didn’t bother to turn off his burner phone before entering the Burger Hut

He deserved what he got.

Coming to a decision, Hermia flipped open the phone, and sent out one last message to the dearly departed Professor’s old phone, before placing it on the floor and smashing it with a single stomp…

For Piper
_____
|A ^ |
|  / \ |
|  \ / |
|   .  |
|__ V|

Notes:

SPOILER: Click to show

SURPRISE! \ o /

Hermia handled Bardsley's death so well, doncha think? 8D


With thanks to PFA (PFA) for looking over this! ^^ ...And pointing out the glaring error I made, in having Morty be conscious when he should be unconscious. xD;

...On that note, meet Benjamin. Benjamin Long.

He totally will neverever show up in more fics at a later date, nopenope, not at all. >.>; *shifty eyes*


Something noteworthy, this is the only "kill" Hermia claimed under the Abominal Aifam - hence the Ace of Diamonds, her calling card.


Also, Bardsley's alias in her Chills phone was "Prettyboy".

[Birdy]

So who here besides me loves poetry and thread revivals? 8D

Disclaimer that I think PFA is partly to blame for this. Because she made some sort of comment one time that prompted me to write Bardsley a poem!

Namely, this poem:

my nam is Bards
an I do teech
in dis smol town
besid teh beech

tho murders fowl
is in teh air
I has no fear
I is not 'scare

Lovely, isn't it? <3

Well, over the next few months following that, more and more poems came to mind, and now you all get to see the results! _{Over a year and a half later since I started this March of 2017 and finished in May of the same year but shhhh... >.> <.< >.> <.<} (Also, these are mostly exactly as I finished them then! Only small changes have been made to capitalization and spelling, to keep it more "consistent". x3; Or as consistent as you can with this sort of thing.)

So sit back, relax, and enjoy this fine, quality collection of Mafia III poetry. ^^ (And be aware there will be spoilers, obviously.)

(Though uh... also a warning for general mafia-esque nastiness, since some of these ended up kiiiiind of dark? ='D I mean, nothing worse than what happened in the RP itself, but. xD; Still. (Mods if I need to add any tags/warnings, let me know and I'll be glad to.))

---

Bardsley

SPOILER: Click to show

my nam is Bards
an i do teech
in dis smol towne
besid teh beech

Teh murdurs foule
ar everyware
an i am teh
towne's wurst nitemar

Alma

SPOILER: Click to show

my nam is Alms
an i lik fishe
to find mai child
is mai grate wishe

on sea an shor
for her i'll look
al ovre towne
in evry nook

Lindsey

SPOILER: Click to show

my nam is Linds
an i lik cak
tu ensult it
wud be mistak

for if yoo doo
i wil se red
i'll grabs mai gun
an shute yoo deds

Nathan

SPOILER: Click to show

my nam is Nath
an i lik tea
it iz teh best
yoo wil agre

for if yoo dont
i wil fix dat
i'll hunt yoo downe
wif bas bal bat

Piper

SPOILER: Click to show

my nam is Pyp
an i does hunt
dat stoopid crab
on oshinfrunt

i wan a pic
an dat is al
but in de sand
he maks me sprawl

Travis Richem (IN YOUR FACE)

SPOILER: Click to show

my nam is Trav
an i is Star
for dis hol sho
is mai memwar

wen xtras tri
tu owt shyne me
dey disapeer
in tu teh sea

Hermia

SPOILER: Click to show

my nam is Herms
both sides i played
i watched them kill
but silent stayed

no words can change
the things i've done
and now i fear
most everyone

Pallada
(Because of course I have to include her too - though beware of Mafia II spoilers included!)

SPOILER: Click to show

my nam is Palls
an i is ghost
an fules ar wat
i hat de most

a brige of corps
is wat i'd bild
if i had nawt
got my self kild

Chill of the Night

SPOILER: Click to show

our nam is Chills
an wen its nite
we leev our mark -
a snoflak wite

we paint it on
teh wals 'round town
til dubl-A
a-taks it downe

Abominable Afiam

SPOILER: Click to show

our nam is AA^*
an wen its nite
an deres no moon
to giv its lite

we sneek arownd
an vandilize
to cros us wuld
be qwyte unwis


^{*(pronounced "ahh")}

Winter's Wrath

SPOILER: Click to show

Our nam is Wrath
This town we rule
With iron fist
And methods cruel

You best if asked
Do what we say
Or else you'll find
You're now our prey

Notes!

• The first poem (Bardsley's) was written on March 16th/17th (2017), and the last (Hermia's) was written on May 18th (also 2017).
• Hermia's took me the longest, and had the most drafts - about 7 of them, to be exact. The others only had one or two, maaaaybe three. About four if you're Alma.
• Are there more poems coming later for other characters? Who knows! \ o / We'll have to wait and see... =D

Tagpocolypse!

Bardlsey is PFA 's!
Alma is Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) 's!
Lindsey is Ginz ❤ 's!
Nathan is Nova 's!
Piper is Lizica 's!
Travis is Jayeee 's!
Hermia is my lovely darling who I would never ever hurt nope!
Pallada is Celestial 's!

And we all made/make up Chill of the Night, Abominable Aifam, and eventually together, Winter's Wrath \ o /