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Post by Celestial on Apr 18, 2014 17:23:06 GMT -5
While Bardsley was busy with Cassily, Pallada had drifted around the town. She peered into windows as people slept and hid behind corners as the mob hunting the primary instigator of the lynchings grew exhausted. She spent as much time as she could picking up on the history and customs of Aifam in order to better understand what she was dealing with and why it went the way of Wafflenet. She had poked about all night in business, in the town hall, in the community library and even in the convent. By the end, she felt like she was knowledgeable enough to begin her hypothesis, though she would need the Professor's consultation on a few things. By morning, however, as expected, Diana was outside the morgue, in time to watch the mafia of this town come out, good as new. She had to confess, there was a small pang in her heart at the thought that her, Julie and Dan could have potentially done the same thing had Blaze not thwarted them but then again, it was more about the victory than being alive. Besides, right now, she was as victorious as she was going to get. She had a project, a collaboration partner and her freedom. People had fought and died for less. She laughed loudly as the deluded ghostly manchild tried to attack the living mafia members. That was one thing that the living had over the dead, ghosts could not hurt them. But nevertheless, he ran off quite quickly. Pallada came closer to congratulate the professor on his work when she was cut off by another ghost. One whose fashion sense would have put a 19th century dandy, or even an 18th century macaroni to shame. And he spoke of madness. Madness! However, before Pallada could say anything, the ghost drifted away into the sky. She turned to Bardsley, who had taken the whole accusation with much aplomb. "I'm sure you will pay him no attention, he is an inferior intellect. They call us mad because they simply do not understand. He was a fool but he will not bother you anymore and history will judge who is right and you are the one who is rigth. It is written by the winners, if you discount revisionism, which you should not by the way," she grinned and shook her head. "My point is, nobody will lock you away now, you are far too powerful and too magnificent. You have usurped the powers of this town and shifted the paradigms of this society to let your mafia become the rulers of it. You have not killed this society but you have redefined it and I very much look forward to seeing what comes of it as well as analysing how you have come to be in this position." Pallada clapped her ghostly hands together and smiled viciously at the other mafia members. "Oh, you do not know me. I am Dr. Diana Aurora Pallada of Wafflenet. And I am here to offer my congratulations to the good Professor for his victory. However, as you were the primary actors, I feel like I should extend it to you too." Pallada watches with joy as Winter's Wrath are crowned the new rulers of Aifam while Winston and Leo fade away. She tells Bardsley that Leo doesn't understand and the town's rule has been overturned so she looks forward to seeing what comes of it. She also introduces herself to the other mafiosos. |
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Post by Kristykimmy on Apr 18, 2014 17:40:49 GMT -5
Anna stood on the street listening to the announcement of the Mafia, feeling guilty as hell. She didn't know how they'd managed to bring themselves back to life exactly, but she knew it had to have had something to do with the fact that she'd given the vial of life restoring potion to Professor Bardsley just before her own death. She'd waited her whole life to use it properly, but had failed every time and finally given it to the wrong person. And now, somehow, the entirety of the Mafia had returned to life and was asserting control over the town. Part of her wanted to plead with them, begging them to restore her to life in exchange for whatever they would ask for. Her antique business had been going well. Might they restore her for a significantly higher rate than they were imposing on the rest of the town? Her business needed her to travel often, so she might even be able to escape eventually. She looked down at her spectral hands. No, she wouldn't. Better to accept death now than live another few dozen years in a special kind of hell. Better to die with dignity and defiance. At least now, as she was, she was free. She could leave at any time. But, things were unfinished, weren't they? Anna walked down the street and heading to Dr. Evan Parker's office. She slipped into the alley to use the back door, not wanting to be scene by anyone who might report her visit to the mafia. She found him walking out the back door at that moment. “Evan, I'm sure you've heard what's happened. Look, this is my fault, all my fault,” Anna said in the low voice, the words tumbling out. “So please, let me make one thing right. I've got some savings, it's in a bank account, of course, but let me give it to you, along with my SUV. Just take it all and get out of town before they can stop you. Whatever you had, it's not worth staying for. You've been a good friend since that day I met you, and I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other while I was alive. I want to make one thing right, try to save one life. Please, get out of here before anything happens to you. Please?” Anna is brokenhearted at the realization that she is the cause of the return of the dead of the Mafia. She seeks out Dr. Evan Parker, trying to convince him to take her savings and car and flee the town before it is too late. |
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Post by Killix on Apr 18, 2014 17:55:27 GMT -5
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Post by Rosalie Dylas (Maddy) on Apr 18, 2014 18:11:50 GMT -5
Before "Happily Ever After"He didn't know who she was but she sounded safe. Of course sounding safe and being safe weren't the same thing. But right now he didn't care. He was clinging to Cheryl for dear life. He wouldn't mind another person to cling onto. “Come here, Christopher,” Anna said, putting her arms around his shoulders comfortingly “Travis is completely evil and insane, and don't mind a word he says. We're not going to let him hurt you again.”He leaned into Anna, keeping close to Cheryl. He didn't want to leave Cheryl. Right now he wanted Cheryl to talk, say something about the weather, he wanted the smell of pancakes Dakota was making to come creeping in the room, he wanted this whole thing to be over. "T-t-hank y-y-you" he stammered. It felt nice to feel someone's arms around him. “It’s okay, Chris. It’s all right.” "I'm s-s-sorry, I didn't mean to. I take it back, I take it all back." He was so tired. "Well…I don’t think we can refuse any help at this point. Miss Dywight? Christopher?”The new ghost sounded fine. But right now Christopher didn't care. He didn't care. Just don't let go. Hold. Travis used one hand to pull his head upright again, and stared down at Markus. "Sorry kid, you might want to look away for this one," he muttered in a low voice.Christopher felt sorry for Travis. He felt really sorry for Travis. He did as he was intructed and buried his head in Anna's shoulder, unfortunately Anna moved away. He shut his eyes tight so he wouldn't see whatever Travis was planning on doing. He didn't want to see anymore. He opened his eyes to see Travis... waving at him. He wasn't sure what the meant but his hand moved up and waved back timidly. Then Travis Richem was gone. And Christopher wasn't sure if he was relived or sad. I'd like to keep Christopher here safe from him.”Christopher numbly looked at Anna. Safe. He got as close as he possibly could to Cheryl. Safe. After "Happily Ever After"People don't come back to life. It only happens in stories. And in stories everyone lives happily ever after. No one dies. The mafia doesn't win. This wasn't happening. He had said that a lot this past week. But everything had happened. It kept going and going. Was it his fault? He shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have lived. Maybe he had been dead for longer than he thought. This was some divine punishment. That had to be it. This wasn't real. He had died there, on that island, and now he as being punished. His cousin, his real cousin, was in the real Aifam living happily and they were never kicked out either. They were happy. And everyone else was just made up... But how could Ris and Coena be made up? How could Cheryl be made up? How could.... no. Why was she-? That was another lie, it had to be. Miss Alma was not standing there because Miss Alma was not mafia. She was not mafia. She was not mafia. No. NO. He clutched his head. Happily ever after. Happily ever after. Where was Dakota? Where was- No. This wasn't real, this wasn't real. Then the crowd started to leave to find Morty Gunderson. But they couldn't. They couldn't kill him (they could). They couldn't just do what the mafia told them to (why not). They couldn't just give up. "Stop!" But the towns people went off to look for Morty. Morty didn't deserve to die. "Stop.... Stop.... Stop...." He didn't want to see anymore. Anything at all. He didn't want to be here. How did he stop being here. The answer had been so easy before but now he was already dead. How were you supposed to just stop existing? "I don't... Don't leave me..." He clutched his head tighter. He could actually feel his hands pulling his hair tightly. "I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE. P-p-p-please. Where did everyone go? Come back, please. Come back. Nelly? Nelly, please come back I'm sorry. Please, please come back. Don't leave me. Thomas? You were just here where are you? Moonflower? I forgive you just please come back" Christopher wasn't in the town square right now. His mind was some place else. An island in the sea. "Come back. Come back. N-n-nelly come back. Please, come back. I don't want to-" His voice hitched, "I don't want to die alone!" But he did. He let go of his head, his hands hovering in the air. He was gripping an invisble knife, carving into something. Travis didn't need to teach him how to use a knife, he already knew. "And...there! Very good job!"
"What is this meat anyway?"
"Just some island beast, don't worry about it dearie.
"Where did we put the corpses? I mean I haven't felt them-"
"They're in a safe place, just cut the next piece ok?"Cannibal. Cannibal. He was a cannibal. Cutting into bodies and cooking them up and then helping her sell them to the deserted castaways. Cannibal. He deserved to die. He deserved much worse. Happily ever after. He looked up. She wasn't with the rest of the mafia. He was trying so hard to hate them but he couldn't. He couldn't hate them. They had to be more than murderers. Have courage, Christopher. Don't chicken out. Don't be a crybaby. He looked straight at the mafia, taking a deep breathe. Tears still ran down his face. "I... I don't hate you." It was important they knew that. "B-b-but, don't kill Morty. Let's just... stop ok? You can stop now." he pleaded, "Please" "Please, stop." Christopher Dylans is a very sad person. He clings to Anna and Cheryl and has confused emotions about Travis. Then he watches the world fall apart for a second time.
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Post by Birdy on Apr 18, 2014 19:11:21 GMT -5
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.It had worked. It had actually worked. Bardsley's revival thing, the orders to kill Morty... everything. It had worked. They were alive. SHE was alive. She'd survived. Oh, she'd had her doubts, at times... but then again, double-agents usually did. The lurking fear in the back of the mind, threatening to manifest into fell-fledged paranoia... But she had overcome it. Pushed it away, focused on what really mattered. Surviving. The crowd had dispersed, finally. And now there was another matter to attend to: the flag. Her fellow Mafia were already lowering it - ready to rip it down and trample it - and put up their own. Things were going well. But then... Then someone from the crowd came back. They came back, and marched right over to Nathan Lukas. "How could you?"Hermia looked up upon hearing the venomous voice. ...Beatrix Devon, owner of the Stallion Inn. The Inn she happened to be staying at. Hermia inched away from the spot she held, wandering as subtly as possible to the other side of the group of Mafia. (She had no desire to be caught in the crossfire - this was between Bea and Nathan, not her. ) She busied herself with helping to remove the old flag, dropping it on the ground at their feet. She helped raise the new one, watching as it rose to the top of the pole. As she watched the flag ripple in the breeze, she couldn't help but smile. A new era had begun. But then… a new voice. "How could you indeed?" came the near-shout. "Happily ever after? Do you think anyone from this town could ever live happily ever after after what you did to it?"What they’d done to the town? What about what the town had dome to THEM? The town killed Nathan‘s sister, while he could only watch helplessly. The town caused them to walk the streets with a lingering fear – a suspicion of everyone they met – knowing any move they made could be their last, due to some motive-happy vigilante becoming suspicious of the stupidest little things. The town forced them to silence anyone who knew too much – anyone who could incriminate them. (Even… even people they trusted…) She shook her head. That was in the past. Now, they were all alive – they’d won. Hermia – ever silent, ever observant – now just stood to the side, watching. Leopold Endicott had approached the Professor, and engaged him in conversation. Something in the conversation must have been amusing to Bardsley, because he laughed. Leopold did not share the sentiment, drifting away soon after. Then, a new ghost – one Hermia had not seen before, though apparently she knew Bardsley well. After speaking to him a moment, she turned her attention to the other Mafia members present. "Oh, you do not know me," she said. "I am Dr. Diana Aurora Pallada of Wafflenet. And I am here to offer my congratulations to the good Professor for his victory. However, as you were the primary actors, I feel like I should extend it to you too."“A pleasure to meet you, Doctor,” Hermia responded politely. “Your congratulations are welcome.” Hermia muses over all that has happened, thankful the Mafia had won and that she hadn't, y'know, been found out as a double-agent and then brutally murdered.
She then sidles away and helps raise the new flag, thus allowing Nathan and Bea to work out their differences.
She then listens to more accusations, and mulls over all the town put the Mafia through.
Finally, she meets and speaks briefly the ghost of Dr. Diana Aurora Pallada, accepting her congratulations.
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Post by Jayeee on Apr 18, 2014 19:45:45 GMT -5
If Travis had learnt one thing from The Travis Games, it was that he was brilliant. Truly brilliant. He'd known that all along, of course, but this had certainly confirmed it. And it felt good, that even the extras couldn't shy away from it now. In truth, he'd felt a little ashamed of his outburst after Rachel's death. All he wanted was to provide some brotherly bonding for the show, but he'd ended up punching somebody in the face and swearing revenge. The revenge part was true at least, but he hadn't realised what had come over him so quickly. That stupid movie, the salt, the punch – everything had happened so fast for him. What was a ghost to think? Of course, he'd naturally fled straight to Bro Heaven after the incident. A massage was just what he needed – they had women invited there for that very purpose. And he had friends there too – real friends who understood that he was just part of show-business. They were just guest stars really, cameo appearances who pointed him in the right direction. “D'you kill any chicks while you were out there?” one of them had asked, sitting next to him in a towel and sunglasses as his shoulders were massaged. “Because bro, that's the only question that matters.” Travis thought about this. “I killed Amy at the very beginning of everything and then I died trying to murder another. I suppose my star power was just simply too much for both of them.” His friend had nodded. “You know, if you kill all the chicks, there won't be any left to do the chick stuff. You get that, right?” He nodded. “Well, we killed a kid too.” The second friend stood up defiantly. “Children are the future, you know. As the youngest executive of our generation, I understand that better than anybody else possibly could. In the past, daddy used to help me to sneak into the school office so that I could edit the grades of my classmates. The only way they'll learn is if they start from the bottom, so they all received an F. Didn't I teach you anything back in Aifam Cove?!” “Of course you did, that's why I sent you to start Travis Richem's The Island. I just never expected to find you here.” Travis didn't sound too enthused about this. “But are you saying I shouldn't have killed those extras? They can be replaced, you know.” “Dude, you rocked it hardcore down there. Just think of the bigger picture – you win either way now. So stop freaking out over some salt. That's for the fries.” “Or the penguins. Salted flippers are delicious – mummy used to love making those.” Travis cocked his head. They were right, he'd forgotten about the sting inside of him. The massage had calmed him down and brought him back. Travis Richem IN YOUR FACE was the only thing that mattered. As far as it was concerned, he was the star and always would be. The extras could do whatever they wanted, but they could never best him. It hadn't been long after he'd floated back down to the production set that Juan had found him. His English had really improved, Travis was impressed. Even Elizabeth had joined them, along with Charlotte, Jason, Susie and Janice. What a team they would make. He narrated their every move – the killing, the revival, the speech – to perfection. He was coming back with a bang. “I always knew it would end up this way,” he explained. “Even after I died, I just knew. Nobody would be able to keep their hands off of me long enough for me to stay dead. The career pack was a brilliant idea, I absolutely knew that we'd win The Travis Games. I was one-hundred percent certain.” He nodded to himself with satisfaction. “There were a couple of slip-ups here and there, but that's life. And that's what this is – reality.” By the time he'd finished narrating everything that happened, Janice had disappeared somewhere and Jason was with Fiona. “You guys, this is going to be just like F.R.I.E.N.D.S only far better and more realistic.” He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and threw his arms around Elizabeth and Susie. “Let's take some group selfies and remember this moment forever. We're the victors of The Travis Games after all, we can have hilarious antics together.” Travis gasped in revelation. “Let's all buy an apartment and live together. We can be besties and it'll be fabulous.” The audience loved some comical friendship, and what could possibly have been better than the cut-throat murderers of The Travis Games living under the same roof as one? It was a match made in heaven, he couldn't even begin to think of all the fans he'd gain from such a genre leap. He was funny enough to hold a sitcom plotline by himself of course, but it always helped to have others around too. They could be recurring actors, since they'd helped him and all. It was perfect. "Oh, you do not know me. I am Dr. Diana Aurora Pallada of Wafflenet. And I am here to offer my congratulations to the good Professor for his victory. However, as you were the primary actors, I feel like I should extend it to you too." Travis stared at the ghost for a while. She had a different aura than he'd felt when he was a ghost, but he didn't ponder it for long. “Hey, you must be Juan's girl, i've heard a tonne about you. I tip my hat to you for taming that bad boy. He makes the best hummus. You should totally join us in the new loft, I hear we're getting a whole load of money from everybody or something? I guess I won the game show.” “I... I don't hate you. B-b-but, don't kill Morty. Let's just... stop ok? You can stop now. Please, stop.”Still with his arms around Susie and Elizabeth, he grinned at the boy. “Why shouldn't we? That no good fool decided to test me when he played that second-rate hack of a movie. He deserves everything that he gets.” Travis glanced over at Juan. “So when's the after-party?” Travis cools down with some sage advice in Bro Heaven, and after being revived and taking over the town with his fellow career pack members, he rejoices in the idea that they should live together to spend their lives in a hilarious sitcom fashion.
He greets Juan's girlfriend and invites her to join them, before explaining to Markus that the purveyor of The Hunger Games showing must die. |
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Post by Nova on Apr 18, 2014 22:23:24 GMT -5
He was victorious. That's all he needed to know. Nathan Lukas, the owner of the Starlight Teahouse, member of the former Abominable Aifam and current Winter's Wrath mafia, had won. Lindsey Lukas - his twin sister - was revived! He could... he could be happy. That's all he ever wanted, was his happiness. He just wanted to make tea, hang out with his sister and make money. So of course he had to figure a way to get what he wanted. However it nearly came at a great cost. He could've died if the town figured out who their famous tea barista really was. His sister did die, and he thought he lost her for good. He was miserable for what seemed an eternity. Thankfully being a part of the mafia was a particularly good way to vent. As they raised the flag, he was proud of his accomplishments. He did a fair amount of killings, and the Dakota kill went particularly splendid. Oh the exhilaration when you plunge a knife into one's heart! Nothing, no nothing could compare to that. He was proud of his sister, for trying to be a good mafioso. Sure, she was the first one killed, but she gave it a go. Oh if she only told him! Then he could give her tips, and protect her as he always had growing up. Of course, maybe he could've shared with her too. But he couldn't risk telling anybody outside of their group. She knew the cost of someone knowing her secret, and she paid for it. But yes, he was proud. He had attained what he wanted: tea, his sister, money. He was invincible with their new potion. He would rule Aifam Cove for the rest of his unlimited days, and he will be happy! For anyone who steps out of line will get a knife in the heart, and now, he could do it publicly, not in secret! Oh if someone even dares to mention he made their tea wrong, he could kill him in his shop! Ah, life was on the mend! Then Bea walked up to him. "How could you?" she asked him, venom in her voice.
"Oh..Bea, hi dear. Um, this--this doesn't change anything in our relationship, does it?" he asked meekly. "Like, I know you have a thing against murders - and that's okay, I sort of see where you're coming from - but things will be good now. I never would have let you be killed. And we didn't kill Kylie, and Lucille was very sadly lynched by the town." Of course, he was hush-hush about their plans that one of them might've been the constable, and they could've been killed. But the truth was they didn't lay a finger on them, and that was the important thing. "Beatrix, with you by my side... we'll own this town. With six others of course, as it's a joint investment. We'll have everything you want. There will be money, comfort, sandwiches, and even alcohol if you like the stuff. I have a few bottles in my backroom, but with me there will be plenty more to come. This town will be a dream to live in, and we'll be happy. We'll be happy together, forever." Summary: Nathan realizes that he achieved his ultimate goal: happiness. He asks Bea if anything changes in their relationship due to his mafioso status, and that he and Bea will now have everything they ever wanted.
Original backstory (to be used in case of death):
Nathan always tried to be positive. And anybody who threatened his happiness should be cut down, as Nathan thought he deserved to be happy. He was the golden child who did no wrong, so why should he be anything but?!
Unfortunately, joining the mafia - where he could kill those who threatened his positivity - completely backfired on him. The town became miserable, grumpy, agitated. He couldn't be happy with these people! Which in turn, made him kill more, and the cycle viciously repeated. He was not a smart man.
He was angry at the town, not only for ruining his happiness, but for killing his twin, who happened to be on the opposing mafia. Oh, how they could've been a force to be reckoned with if they shared their secrets. D:
For Aifam's heinous crimes against him, he would exact revenge on the Cove until there was no one left but himself... and his happiness.
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Post by Lizzie on Apr 18, 2014 23:31:49 GMT -5
Despite what so many people said, it didn’t hurt, dying. In fact, for Dakota, it was pretty painless. Well, at least it was until they tuned back in. - Gerard Scott was the ‘boss’, the head of the morgue where Dakota worked. He was on Christmas vacation int he Bahamas with his family, blissfully unaware of the murders. That is, until he got a call the day before. “You have to come back! The morgue, there’s mafias killing all the town and the morgue! ” a frantic and desperate employee had yelled into the phone.
“What?” he had replied in disbelief, and hung up without another word.So it was natural, of course, that Gerard sent his wife Anya and darling daughter Sophie to Anya’s mother’s house, and came straight back to the death magnet that was Aifam Cove. However, he wasn’t prepared, when walking into the practically-abandoned morgue, that he would stumble upon what he did. Sprawled in a mess of bloody, pen and marker covered papers, lay Dakota Taylor Allen, arms splayed out spread-eagle like on the floor. Gerard panicked at the mess, picking up the phone to call the police. Yet, he noted, the other line, to the absent police, his salvatio, was dead. Just like Dakota. Picking up the young worker’s cracked glasses, Gerard began to tidy the scene, when he noticed the writing on some of the papers. One in particular, a list of some sort, stuck out. Several townspeople were on the list, the self-obsessed Travis was “innocent”, while many, such as Kylie and Nathan, had several scribbles, before “mafia” and “innocent” accompanied their names. According to the list, many people were possible mafia, only two eventually gaining ‘innocent’ status. Explanations accompanied on the following pages, “DO NOT TRUST” written on some. Gerard sighed as he quickly left the room to go find cleaning supplies. It was going to be a long night. - Dakota, on the other hand, came back slowly, feeling accompanied with a shriek of agony. Their view blurrily swam back in from darkness, and they realized that what they saw was their own disheveled body, laying there on the cold, formerly sterile morgue floor. They recognized their notes laying on the floor, some disturbed. “Wha-what happened?” they cried, their words accompanied by another groan of pain. The door slammed behind Gerard, Dakota’s plea unheard. The glasses on their ghostly form were askew, but they found that they didn’t need them anyway. Memories began to come back to them. “Yes, it’s going to be great,” Nathan had said to them, throwing a wicked grin at his sister, and then a virtually painless plunge into darkness. It was alright, Dakota reasoned. So they were a little dead. They found as they floated through the door that being a ghost, besides the pain from their death wound, wasn’t that bad. They finally weren’t tired anymore, they had a clear head and for the first time in a week they found that they could finally think straight. They knew who was Mafia now. They remembered. They were going to warn the town right now! Dakota reached the town square as a Mafia member -- Professor Bardsley -- began to speak. “And just in case you bright folks get the idea to murder us once again, well…”Dakota Taylor Allen, watching the alive Mafia ( Weren’t they just ghosts when they killed me? Dakota wondered) lecture the crowd, slunk back into the shadows, tuning out the speakers, their ghostly body filled with fright. They watched in terror, shivering in the shadows. “Weren’t those people… dead? And the other ones, they just killed me, but they were dead, I know they were dead!” Dakota whispered, their voice growing louder with every word. But nobody noticed from the shadows where they were watching. With a small laugh, Dakota began to wonder how their family would react. While Dakota, in their madness, didn’t know how their aunt and uncle reacted to Christopher, they figured that their parents, apathetic to their ‘rebel’ and ‘demented’ child, wouldn’t be much different. And so, wallowing in self-pity, thinking of their family, they watched. -- Dakota’s body had left a mess, and Gerard Scott was busy cleaning. He was the only one left in the morgue, the rest of them being at the new Mafia Overlord introduction, which he didn’t know about. So, he worked, cleaning the break room and half-dragging Dakota’s body to the rooms downstairs. The gasp coming from Gerard was audible as he opened the door to the room. Some of the body refrigeration units had been left hanging open, the bodies of “Piper”, “Bardsley”, “Travis”, and “Lindsey” gone. Broken vials littered the floor near each one, with none of the potion remaining with the shards of glass. With a grunt of displeasure, Gerard lifted Dakota’s body into one of the other, non-broken units. With Dakota’s own dry-erase marker, he wrote “Dakota Allen” in his bold handwriting, a sharp contrast to the dead counterpart’s chicken scratch. Gerard Scott shut the door with a clink and a sigh. The autopsy would have to wait until he had slept off his jet lag. -- Dakota continued to watch the crowd of townspeople, both dead and alive. However, their eyes sought out a few people in particular. Dakota sighed with relief as they saw Christopher, their precious cousin, but their eyes travelled still. They noticed Hayden, who was in the back of the crowd, looking positively ready to vomit. In fact, as Dakota watched, Hayden did just that, and they had to look away. Still, Dakota searched for the one other person in the town that had occupied their mind, the one person whos death had hit the hardest, besides Christopher’s. “No! No, this isn’t fair! You guys cheated! This is all wrong! This game is stupid! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go!”Winston was yelling, his ghostly form ruffled and just as disheveled as their own, if not more. Dakota felt a rush of affection for the lightsaber-wielding boy, only slightly younger than themself. For a moment, they felt their fear disappear, replaced with the budding feelings -- not necessarily romantic, mind, but feelings nonetheless -- they only now let themself acknowledge. Sure, he was childish, but they were too. Dakota had wanted, before their deaths, to approach him, to ask to play a game. But he ran from them when they asked for help with bodies days ago, and since then, they hadn’t tried. Now, they reasoned, probably wasn’t a good time to try. After all, they were both dead, and he was starting to float away, back to his earthly home. Disappointment flooded Dakota, and they started to go and stop him, to say something, anything, but then reconsidered. It was probably easier to leave him alone. If he wanted to talk to them, they reasoned, he would seek them out. When the crowd began to disperse, hunting for Morty, Dakota did what they thought was best. They began to approach the ghost of their cousin, but saw that he was talking to the crowd of Mafia still around. Pleading with them, almost. Typical Christopher. Puffing out their chest, the noticeable stab wound glowing a slimy green color, Dakota approached the Mafia, and… “Topher?” Dakota asked softly, reaching out a practically ethereal hand. But, in true Christopher fashion, he didn’t notice his cousin. The cousin who had wanted nothing more than to talk to him again, who had investigated the Mafia for him, who had gone mad, working tirelessly, their motive being solely to avenge him. So, with one last look at their cousin and at Bardsley, Dakota floated away, a small tear rolling down their face, and their stab wound throbbing. Dakota wakes up from their death, clear minded. However, they find that the Mafia has taken over, and fear floods them.
Gerard Scott comes back from his vacation in the Bahamas and cleans up Dakota's body, also reading some of their constable papers.
Dakota thinks about Winston and Christopher, the latter of which they approach, but leave when they're not noticed. |
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Post by Draco on Apr 18, 2014 23:34:09 GMT -5
Jack and Rocky were STILL discussing the whole Mayor thing. Rocky brushed his hair back with his hand and pointed at Jack with a white rose, "I'll tell you again. My name is Rocky Rockfell. R. Rockfell. So if what you were saying is true, then the person they voted for can be anyone with a name starting with R and Rockfell. Ergo, that must mean I can take over." Groaning Jack shakes his head, "But you aren't a resident here. We can't just let anyone in and become mayor." "You let a ROCK become mayor. I know rocks, they don't do much. Except maybe erode." "But the ROCK is a resident of this town!" "Really?" "Well, not exactly on paper, but it was a rock from this town!" There was a knock at the door and a child's head pops in. "Excuse me. Snape." Jack groans. "The Mafia have made another appearance." "Great, who did they kill this time?" Rocky looks at Jack, "Oh, so you are having a Mafia problem as well? We had one. It ended out ok, well you know, besides the whole dying thing." The child shakes his head, "Well... It's not exactly who they killed... More like... They're alive." Jack and Rocky stare at the kid then at each other then back at the kid. --- Afe has been all over, he sort of lost his party member... And he wasn't exactly looking at the most logical places for him... He was even lurking in the morgue when the Bacon Man and the others revived. They didn't seem to notice him, or probably didn't care he was there, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he was hanging out. He flew off moments after the revival and went back to the beach. He sat where his body, Jack's body, landed. "Chimichangas!" He sat there, staring out at the sea, a few crabs sat with him. Crabs were cool. Rocky and Jack argue over the whole mayor thing some more. When one of the children come and tell them about the Mafia reviving.
---
Afe has a small adventure, and hangs out with crabs again. |
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Post by PFA on Apr 19, 2014 0:12:19 GMT -5
Professor Bardsley wasn't bothered by many things. The townspeople's accusations didn't bother him. What good would it do them? Winter's Wrath had already won. Throwing a fuss about it was a noble effort, but ultimately meaningless. Nothing they could say would change the situation, or sway the coldhearted hearts of the mafia. The deluded gamer boy's attack didn't bother him. It was mildly irritating, perhaps, but ultimately an equally useless endeavor. In fact, it was really quite amusing, watching the boy act as though he mattered. But he didn't matter. He was meaningless, just like all the others. Not even the crying child begging for Gunderson to live bothered him. The poor, ignorant boy. Trying to stop the killing by sparing the life of the most violent killer in Aifam Cove? Professor Bardsley had to laugh. This boy was not going to change their minds. Mortimer Gunderson was destined to die. It was Mr. Endicott's statement that caught him off-guard. "Maybe some day you'll find an actual meaning to your life."What was that supposed to mean? "An actual meaning"? He could not be more satisfied with his life right now. So satisfied to be alive, after having experienced death. Professor Leland G. Bardsley was among the best of his field—no, the best in his field. Perhaps other anthropologists let such useless things as morality and emotion cloud their research, but Leland Bardsley did not. He had watched the collapse of society. He had caused the collapse of society. He had the opportunity to make the best research any anthropologist could ever dream of, and he was a part of it. "I'm sure you will pay him no attention, he is an inferior intellect," Dr. Pallada spoke, reaffirming his stance. "They call us mad because they simply do not understand. He was a fool but he will not bother you anymore and history will judge who is right and you are the one who is right. It is written by the winners, if you discount revisionism, which you should not by the way." She shook her head. "My point is, nobody will lock you away now, you are far too powerful and too magnificent. You have usurped the powers of this town and shifted the paradigms of this society to let your mafia become the rulers of it. You have not killed this society but you have redefined it and I very much look forward to seeing what comes of it as well as analyzing how you have come to be in this position."Professor Bardsley's scowl faded, replaced by his usual calm smile. Dr. Pallada was right; Mr. Endicott just didn't understand. Very few people did. Why should he let the words of the ignorant get to him? Professor Bardsley was above that. He wouldn't let a simple hairdresser bother him like that. And then Richem had to open his mouth. "Hey, you must be Juan's girl, i've heard a tonne about you," the idiot said. "I tip my hat to you for taming that bad boy. He makes the best hummus."Professor Bardsley was baffled by this. Juan's... his what? Was he implying that he and Dr. Pallada were— no, of course he was. This was Travis Richem, the man whose life revolved around the next big romance arc. But Dr. Pallada... they understood each other, she was someone he felt he could trust, but— He let out a groan. Why did he have to revive this idiot, again? "So when's the after-party?" Richem asked. "You'll have to arrange that yourself, Richem," Professor Bardsley replied bluntly, turning to leave. Then, with a smile, he added, "Now if you'll all excuse me... I have a class to teach." And with that, he headed off toward Prettyboy College. It had been a few days since he'd been to class... hopefully the students wouldn't have missed him too badly. --- "Good morning, class, and welcome to Cultural Anthropology," came the dull, professional voice of Dr. Jenson, the replacement teacher for Professor Bardsley. "Today's lesson will be on page 109 of your—" "Excuse me."The students gasped, muttering amongst themselves in shock. They all had heard the news: their teacher, Leland Bardsley, had been outed as a member of the Chill of the Night. He had been killed on the spot by that Morty character—one of their classmates, Jonathan Mallory, had seen it himself. So how in the name of 'Woo was the man now standing in the doorway, perfectly alive? Dr. Jenson, for perhaps the first time in his entire career, looked genuinely surprised. "B... Bardsley? What are you— I thought you were—" "I was." Professor Bardsley smiled politely, as he usually did, but this time it felt... off. The students shifted nervously in their seats as their revived teacher strode confidently to the front of the classroom, stopping beside Dr. Jenson. "If you don't mind, this is my class. I believe I should be teaching it." "B-but I—" Dr. Jenson swallowed hard. "The school staff has already hired me as your replacement. I-I didn't think you'd be coming back." "Well, to be fair, neither did I. Most don't usually recover from having their throat slit, but, well." Professor Bardsley chuckled lightheartedly. Why was he chuckling at that. "At any rate, I already have a lesson prepared. It would be a shame to let it go to waste, wouldn't you agree...?" "I, uh... I-I have a lesson prepared, too—" " Wouldn't you agree?" "Ah! Y-yes, of course, sir," Dr. Jenson stammered, stepping away from the lectern obediently. "Whatever you want is fine, sir." "Hm. The 'sir' is a bit over the top, perhaps, but it will do," Professor Bardsley decided, pushing Dr. Jenson's notes aside and placing down his own. He looked over the crowd of students, all of them staring at him in dead silence. Usually some students would look bored or uninterested, but now he had the undivided attention of the class. He smiled to himself. He could get used to this. But soon, his smile faded. Someone was missing. "Has anyone seen Cassidy Jackson today?" he asked the students. None of them dared answer aloud, just shaking their heads mutely. With a frown, Professor Bardsley turned to Dr. Jenson. "Do you think you could go find Miss Jackson for me? It would be a shame for her to miss class..." "I, er... y-yes, of course," Dr. Jenson answered meekly. "I'll see if I can find her." "Thank you," Professor Bardsley replied. "That would be excellent." As Dr. Jenson hurried out of the room, Professor Bardsley calmly flipped open his lesson manual. Poor Cassidy must have been so tired after staying up all night, but he needed to keep an eye on her. It would be quite a shame to lose track of the creator of the revival potion, after all... --- Bardsley's words that morning stuck with Cassidy. She knew that Bardsley had taken the notes for the revival potion, and he'd made it clear that he didn't need her anymore. He was most likely going to kill her, and her grandpa, and probably Jonathan again, too. He would keep the potion to himself, and with it, the mafia would be unstoppable. But Jonathan Mallory didn't like that plan. The ghost of Jonathan had kept himself hidden while Bardsley was present. He didn't want the professor to know that he was there, so hopefully he wouldn't see it coming. Bardsley locked away Cassidy's notes in his office just before they used the potion on him... so he had to act fast. The moments leading up to his death played through his mind over and over, so it wasn't hard for him to remember it. In fact, Bardsley himself proved it: ghosts could carry solid objects. And that was exactly what Jonathan needed to do. As soon as Bardsley left his office, Jonathan's ghost sprang into action. He went straight for the notes, desperately trying to figure out how to pick them up. He knew it was possible, he just had to figure out how... After some effort, the papers lifted off the desk, floating in his ghostly hand. Yes! Jonathan desperately tried to carry the papers out of the room, dropping them and picking them up again several times along the way. He was not used to this, but he didn't have the time to get used to it. All he needed to do was get those papers out of the room... He remembered how Bardsley had managed to take the papers straight through the door, but considering how hard it was for Jonathan to even carry them in the first place, he figured he didn't have the time to figure out how to do that. So he did the next best thing he could think of, which was carefully slide the notes under the door. He had barely managed to accomplish this, when— A gasp for breath. He was snapped back into his body. He was alive, and Cassidy was sobbing over his body. "Cass," he whispered, his voice raspy. Coming back from the dead was hard on a person, it seemed. "What... what time is it?" "I... I don't know. Early," she replied awkwardly. "Why, what—" "As soon as school opens, we need to get to Bardsley's office," he told her. "Your notes are under the door. We need to get there before anyone else finds them." "What... but how—?" Jonathan smiled weakly. "There are some perks to being dead." And so that was what they did. As soon as they could get inside the school, they made a beeline for Bardsley's office, where the notes still lay on the floor. They took them with them, and then... then they ran. They didn't know where they would go, but somehow, someway, they had to escape. It was their only hope. After reacting in varying degrees to everyone, Professor Bardsley heads off to teach class. He pushes aside Dr. Jenson, his replacement teacher, and takes over, because no one can argue with him. He notices that Cassidy is absent, and asks Dr. Jenson to go look for her, because he can't let her out of his sight.
But he does, because Jonathan is a sneaky ghost and manages to grab Cassidy's notes while Bardsley isn't looking. Notes in hand, Cassidy and Jonathan try to skip town. |
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Post by Coaster on Apr 19, 2014 0:31:44 GMT -5
Cogito Ergo Sum: "I think, therefore I am." One of the first things Fella had learned in his academic career, and just about the only one that stuck. Something that kept him going all these years between life on the road, long weeks without eggs, and seeing the painstaking hours his secretary had put into work day after day, suddenly vanishing without a trace. Despite being... different from all the other kids, he still had something to cling to. Despite his friends who visited every summer and were always angry, but always willing to play. Always at his expense, but playing. Even when they didn't know he existed. Like that kid who'd put him off games--Fella was a set of dots on the screen, but he had enriched his life somehow. (...By being a doormat, but still.) Or that burger killer tag guy who'd offed Fella in a game himself. Despite Fella being so helpful and saving the barbecue by finding it in the snowman. Fella decided to stop playing the game in the theater after everyone took off, and meandered down to the beach as that crazy guy started up the monologue again. All those indie movies that went on to modest success thanks to Building Negative Zero. Or that guy up there talking, now a town celebrity since Fella stopped caring about his own business. His secretary, who--assuming he was still out there somewhere--was provided for, given a purpose for all these years. Those nuns that finally had the meat for their barbecue, since they'd burnt it so much. Not that Woo liked him any more for that, from what he could tell. Fella happened to notice one of the bakery workers grandstanding along with the crazy actor guy, but continued on his way pensively as he meandered down the route to the lowering tide. Those nice people at the bakery who'd always shared their eggs with him, even though some of them were cracked open in the dumps--uh, fridges--and tasted kinda funny. The animal lady who smelled like wet dog, the town hall lady who got him his job in the first place, the camera lady, the snack lady, the news actress lady, the last few in the jail breaking out on a giant pink bat and leaving him behind without even explaining the game, none of them really giving him the time of day... As if he didn't even exist. But Cogito Ergo Sum. ...But Latin was about as dead as the dinosaurs. ...dinosaurs. ... Dinosaurs were dead? Fella considered this for a moment as he neared the water's edge, gazing at the crabs foaming in the sunrise as a fellow ghost sat with them, gazing at the short ripples bringing mermaid scales and fragments of rum bottles to the shore, gazing at the great beyond which stood in front of him. He frowned and let out a screech. This just didn't make sense. He retrieved his camera from its usual place on his person raptor and attempted to review the footage of his video logs, but the image quickly fizzled into scorch marks and a message indicating that there was nothing on the drive. Which just meant he had to start a new one. "Something happened to the old footage. I quit the game, but something tells me it wasn't a game after all. I don't think--" Fella contemplates his life and influence--or lack thereof--as he goes down to the beach, finds out his video log footage is gone, and accidentally logics himself into nonexistence.
(yes, I know that it's the inverse and not the contrapositive, so it's not technically logically equivalent, but what better way for a philosoraptor to disappear than a logic bomb?) R.I.P. Fella. Thanks for the game, everybody!
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Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Apr 19, 2014 13:01:27 GMT -5
Time passed really quickly for the living, Lynna realized as her mother "let go" of her much too soon. Due to her intangibility, Alma's arms had passed right through her daughter but she did her best to rest her arms on top of the ghostly warmth Lynna exuded. "Is Dad okay? I don't think he'd be too pleased with your swimming lessons." Oh my 'Woo, Endre!Alma sprang up with renewed passion. Regardless of whether or not he cared for her, Endre still needed her. She thought. All this time she'd wanted to find Lynna, get her husband, and leave the town. She'd found Lynna...no, that wasn't right. Lynna had found her. Nothing really changed. "Let's go find Daddy." Alma's voice steadied as she rose from the cliff--the cliff that was going to be her straight shot down to the sea, but now served to lift her up. "I can't wait! It's been so long, really. Do you think he'll be happy to see Pillowface?" Alma clutched her cloak around her. "I hope so," she said simply. The two of them traveled side by side back to the town square. If he wasn't there, he would definitely be home. Endre was well armed verbally and with his pistol, but Alma bit her lip in concern anyway. He could take care of himself, but she knew these people. Not a single one would hesitate to bring him down in her absence. She had the power to stop him. And sure enough, a few mafiosos were still raising the flag and admiring it. "Hello," she said quietly, not sure how to approach them anymore. She stepped forward. "Have you met Lynna?" she tried to say this as nonchalantly as she could, but could not stop her voice from trembling. Another ghost was nearby--one with the same ominous glint that she'd seen in several of their eyes.
"Oh, you do not know me. I am Dr. Diana Aurora Pallada of Wafflenet. And I am here to offer my congratulations to the good Professor for his victory. However, as you were the primary actors, I feel like I should extend it to you too.""Erm, thanks, I guess." Alma muttered. "But it feels a bit...strange. Unsettling. And...." Alma bristled before the doctor could say anything else and stepped in front of her daughter. "What are you doing here, Dr. Pallada?" Almost as if guessing the answer, her eyes widened. She put a hand on Hermia's shoulder. She was easiest to approach despite her treachery. "Wait...we can't really be doing this....The whole town?" "I don't... Don't leave me..." He clutched his head tighter. He could actually feel his hands pulling his hair tightly. "I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE. P-p-p-please. Where did everyone go? Come back, please. Come back...." Oh, sweet 'Woo, Christopher! "I'm here, Christopher!" she called out, beckoning him closer. "It's okay..." She reached out to him, but then noticed the hand outstretched towards him--the hand beckoning him towards a group of mafia members. Alma stared at both of her hands. Her hands that so lovingly cradled and cherished each fish in a bag before she brought them home, her hands that had brushed her daughter's soft hair, that had caressed a little girl with a scrape on her knee, her hands that had slid right through Christopher and shielded his eyes from some of the visual attacks.... hands that had snapped countless necks. "I... I don't hate you."
Her eyes filled with tears. "I could never hate you either, dear," she whispered. "You don't understand...I had to...my family depended on me..." She straightened and turned towards the mafia. "I've helped you already. I'm leaving. I have nothing more to offer you." "If you leave, though, I can't come with you...." the little girl whispered. "What do you mean?" "This is home. Someone needs a breeze to carry them every so often." As a demonstration, Lynna's ghostly form seemed to turn into fog and gently ruffled Christopher's hair. She returned as a little girl in between them. Don't worry," she tried to reassure her mother. "Wherever you go, I'll be the warm breeze that comes to you from over the sea."
After a crazy long pseudo-embrace, Alma decides to search for Endre to show him they can still leave. To prove that he can trust her, she attempts to leave the mafia, but (kind of?) falters at the presence of Dr. Pallada and the fact that her daughter cannot come with her.
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Post by Rosalie Dylas (Maddy) on Apr 19, 2014 13:34:58 GMT -5
Was Professor Bardsley.... laughing at him? He wasn't sure how to respond. That was it then, wasn't it? Morty was going to die. He couldn't do anything to stop them. Christopher felt someone touch his shoulder. Actually felt them. But the touch felt like Dakota's. And Dakota wasn't dead so it couldn't be Dakota. Dakota was alive. They were probably listening to loud music while cleaning up the bodies. “Why shouldn't we? That no good fool decided to test me when he played that second-rate hack of a movie. He deserves everything that he gets.”"It is a terrible movie," Christopher agreed, "But...maybe not..kill...." he trailed off. It was hopeless. "Mr. Richem..." One last try. But he couldn't bring himself to ask again, "Thank you...?" he finished confused. He wasn't really sure what he was thanking him for. "I'm here, Christopher!" she called out, beckoning him closer. "It's okay..."Her. He looked at her, really looked at her. All the anger, all the hate, was rising. She had done this. It was her. She killed people, she lied. But that was what all mothers did. They were liars. They said they would protect you and keep you safe but they didn't. They did the opposite. He stared at her hand. He wanted nothing to do with her. Ever again. Her eyes filled with tears. "I could never hate you either, dear," she whispered. "You don't understand...I had to...my family depended on me...""I.. I hate you." It felt awful to say those words, awful. "You lied! You lied! Why would you do something like this? Kill people? How could you?" He was so angry. "I hate you! How could you do this to me? How could you just leave me... and. Mothers aren't supposed to be... cannibals! They aren't supposed to feed their children HUMANS!" Christopher didn't know the difference between Nelly and Alma right now. There was no difference. The woman who had pretended to care about him while feeding him human meat was the same as the woman who showed him her fish and pretended to love him while she killed people. "How could you do this? How could you kill people? How could you...?" Weak. He was crying as he yelled at her. Weak. He had to be stronger than this. "I thought... I thought you were different. But you aren't! You're just like all the other mothers!" Miss Alma, Nelly, his real mother in an apartment far away, they were all the same. He hated them. He felt a soft, warm breeze, but he couldn't focus right now. "I hate you, I hate you." he sobbed, "I hate you Alma. I HATE YOU!" Cheryl, he wanted Cheryl. And Dakota... no not Dakota, Dakota was better off without him. Don't be selfish, let Dakota be happy. He wanted Cheryl. He needed Cheryl to just say something with her voice, something anything. He just needed for someone to care about him. It was such a selfish desire. Christopher yells at Alma |
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Post by RielCZ on Apr 19, 2014 14:37:23 GMT -5
Rilen wasn't sure what to think of the fact the mafia generally ignored his comments. On one hand, he supposed he had survived the potentially lethal encounter -- a good thing -- but he failed to elicit the response he'd hoped the mafia would have; he wanted them to feel bad about themselves, to repent for their actions. Instead, they mostly treated him with ambivalence. The newspaper girl just stood silently, watching him, and -- worst of all -- the Professor just smirked at him condescendingly, belittlingly. That sociopath was essentially saying, "Rilen, who cares what you think. We've won. You're meaningless. You're nothing." Rilen wanted to punch him in the face. But, he supposed Bardsley was right about one thing: they had won. What would punching him in the face solve now? The boarder, a good distance from the mafia, supposed he should really focus all his attention towards getting out of this godforsaken-- And then something landed in his eye. It burned slightly, but seemed to not even have proper coherence or corporeality and was all -- what's the word? -- ectoplasmy and-- Rilen barely managed to stifle a scream. But the pain went away. Just like that. He blinked a few times. And then he gazed upward. Holy crimony a floating person? The boarder blinked a few more times. The pink-haired and androgynous entity looked sad; he supposed they might have been crying. And, he supposed through their tear he now had the ability to see ghosts. He wanted to say to them, "Don't be so sad!" or something akin but he realized he had no means in which to justify the request. Everyone in the town was sad. For good reason. The boarder looked over toward the mafia one last time. There was that kid, murdered in the church. Visions of the blood came back, and Rilen grew dizzy again. And... there was another ghost there. A young girl. He hadn't remembered her being killed... Rilen swallowed. Was the world littered with ghosts? Would they try to scare him? What if the ability to see them wasn't a blessing, but a curse? What if-- And then all the ghosts disappeared. "No, I change my mind," Rilen said quickly to whatever was causing this. "I want to be able to see--" And then the ghosts were back. It appeared as though Rilen had some ability to control when he saw them, which relieved him. The kid was yelling at one of the mafia members. "You lied! You lied! Why would you do something like this? Kill people? How could you? I hate you!"
Rilen almost went back to join him in his ranting, but ultimately didn't want to face the mafia again. "Go, kid," he said, knowing he was probably too far away for the child to hear anyway. "Tell them how it is." Though the boarder had originally planned to locate the mob -- and Morty -- Rilen decided to instead head toward his sister's home athwart the school. He was going to write that vigilante freak a letter. *** "I'm back, Barbra," Rilen greeted the plant as he opened and then subsequently locked the door. He sat down at Aunt Martha's antique desk; he'd drawn many terrible pictures here in his youth. Grabbing a sheet of his sister's letterhead, he tore off the "From the desk of Lora Forsythe" in the header and set to work. To Morty,
You are a terrible person. I felt I should open with that. The members of the mafia, however, are terrible people too. They want total control of this town and are willing to put down anyone who doesn't comply. Also, they are all alive again. (I don't know what info you've caught whilst on the lam.) They have a potion able to resurrect the deceased. The three you failed to catch are Rilen paused. Should he really reveal that info? He didn't want more deaths... not that Morty could rile a mob against the mafia, now. the woman who likes fish, the proprietor of the tea shop, and a fairly young news girl. At least that way he wouldn't be using their exact names. The mafia wants you dead. They've got the town after you; considering the majority of the town wants you dead, too, quite a lot are complying. But I don't want to see you dead. He hastily crossed that out. And as much as I'd like to see you dead, your head on a silver platter won't help much anymore. If this letter finds you, so be it. If it doesn't, so be it.
I'm just giving you a warning. You might want to escape while you still can. Retrieving Barbra -- he decided the initial danger of confronting the mafia was over, and could thus take her along -- he walked to the Burger Hut, keeping to the alleyways and as much out of the mafia's line of sight as he could. *** He entered the abandoned and forgotten about facility. He thought there was a slim chance Morty might have been hiding in the one place the town would have thought too easy a hiding spot -- the eatery -- but Morty did not appear to be there. He left the letter on one of the tables. Exiting, he saw Seeds of Love a few shops down. Rilen remembered Miko still had money under the mattress; the boarder had not taken it all on his previous visit. In trying to escape, he'd probably need all the funds he could get... But something else compelled him to enter the shop. He couldn't say what is was. "Hmm, Barbra?" he whispered to his plant. "What say we enter the shop one last time?" Rilen is upset he couldn't make the mafia upset with his words. Then, he receives the ability to see ghosts after Dakota's tear falls in his eyes.
He goes home to write Morty a, "It's over, escape while you can" letter which he delivers to the Burger Hut, but Morty -- as he sort of expects -- wasn't there.
Seeing the shop Barbra came from, and remembering there's still money in it -- important if he's to escape -- he asks his plant if she wants to see her home one last time. |
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Post by Celestial on Apr 19, 2014 15:23:59 GMT -5
"I have come back here from hell, quite literally, and I wish to study your town, especially in light of my previous research and what has happened here. Is that so wrong?" Pallada smiled viciously at the mafioso who had asked her what she was doing here. Despite her smile, she did not like the look of that woman. She had something about her, something reluctant...something traitorous. Like Mick. Pallada raised an eyebrow as one of the mafia members, Travis perhaps, spoke. First, his insistance on calling the Professor 'Juan' was curious but his actual words, implying that she and Bardsley were a couple...she laughed loudly in amusement. And yet, she could see it. Bardsley was her intellectual equal and they thought alike. He was one of the few people in the world who she did not see as beneath her and certainly, he was both intelligent and handsome. Although he was alive now and she was dead. Well, it did not matter. All in good time and if it did lead to that, well, Diana would not object. After all, for all their brief acquaintance, she did respect him and enjoy spending time with him. Bardsley had left to teach a class but Pallada decided to stay behind. One thing that the void had a blessful lack of was undergraduates and frankly, she did not feel like rectifying the situation. Instead, she could do more research on the town, gather information and witness the reactions of the townspeople to the news in the change in governance as well as observe the aftermath, further strengthening her hypotheses on what had led to such a situation. However, something caught her ear. One of the mafiosos, the one who asked her the question, had announced her decision to quit the mafia. What was more, she was talking to one of the town ghosts. And there was another ghost she had been talking to before, a child's ghost. Pallada could not stand traitors. Of course, they were fascinating to read about due to their intentions but traitors were usually rewarded as they deserved and the historical punishment for treason, desertion and many other traitorly activities was a vicious one, as though the ancients had shared her distaste for traitors. So what this woman was saying angered her. She had chosen her cause so she should remain with it, through thick and thin. Or be a coward like Mick and suddenly have a change of heart but that, that was despicable. She hovered up behind the woman, Alma, she thought her name was. If Diana had still been alive, she would have been breathing in her ear. "So you are leaving, just as this glorious reign has begun? Even though your hands helped create it. You are a murderer, embrace it. You can't just leave a mafia once you're part of it. Stay true to your comrades," she murmured and grinned viciously. "I once knew a traitor. He was in our mafia but once he died, he had a change of heart, no longer wanted to kill. He hurt me, a lot. If I did not hate traitors before, I hate them now." She looked around for the girl who had been talking to Alma but she was gone. "The boy...and the girl you were speaking too...they will have to stay behind, if you leave. A traitor is a selfish creature but to prevent traitors, you know what is usually used against them? Their loved ones. I do not know who these children are. They could be yours or they could just be people you know. But I would gladly hunt them down if it means punishing a traitor. I would do it even if Winter's Wrath does not instruct me. All because your kind sickens me," Pallada dug her fingers into Alma's throat. Even if they went right through her and Diana was no longer a revenant, the feeling must have still been chilling. "So stay loyal. Or the children will die. Children die all the time, I have no qualms with adding a few more to the pile. Ghosts can die, trust me. I know." ----- With Kylie desperately needing some alone time, and Lucille being around her as a ghost, reminding her of her being dead, Lucille had spent the whole night making sure there were no loose ends. She got a few messages from her operatives demanding an explanation for the odd morse message she had sent out but she did not reply beyond telling them to follow her orders. It was difficult. She now had to concentrate to pick up objects, although it was likely that it would get better with practice. She just had to wait and see. She was attracted by the commotion around the morgue in the morning. Staying invisible, Lucille floated onto the rooftops (that was one perk to being a ghost: flight) only to witness in horror as the newly resurrected mafia proclaimed this town officially theirs. They described their future reign of terror and the fact that they were functionally immortal now as well as calling for the final killing of Morty Gunderson. Lucille scowled. They were far worse than Morty now, no question. She had operated in this town but they had always existed in a symbiotic relationship. They were simply parasites. And one of them was Nathan. That [bleep]...getting to Bea like that. And now, he was going to be close to Kylie. Her fist clenched at the thought. Well, Winter's Wrath, Lucille thought, you may be victorious but I am going to make your victory as difficult as possible. Winter had to give way to spring eventually, that was the natural order of things. She was not going to give up and her mission had just become a lot more important. It was not just about getting redemption, it was about saving Aifam Cove. She stopped for a moment to think about when she had become so selfless. Since she had met Kylie. The girl had changed her for the better and now, Lucille was going to safe her. She was going to save them all. Ghosts were disappearing. People were wailing and crying in despair and the mafia stood there, smug and satisfied in their victory. Not for long. Lucille did not want them to grow complacent. It was time to fire the first shot in the war. But how? Her eyes surveyed the street in front of her until they came to rest on a loudspeaker. It was Aifam's emergency system, used in case of a storm or an announcement which required the mayor (or rather, somebody close to the mayor) to inform the whole town. She smiled. Yes, this was perfect. Lucille took off from the roof refusing to see any more of the town's despair and headed for the town hall, looking for the emergency broadcast system room. She could phase through walls and her invisibilty made sure she was not stopped but it still took her a while to find it. But there it was: a microphone and a transmitter, wired up to the speakers. Lucille wondered how she should do this: perhaps she could possess it as a ghost or...or she could just speak into the microphone. She flipped the switch to turn the whole device on. "Ahem," she said and listened carefully for her voice outside the room. Once it had come through, she smiled and continued. "Good morning Aifam Cove indeed. Some of you may recognise me, of course, and yes, I am technically dead. But we all know, death is hardly final and especially for me as I am on a mission from the Lord 'Woo himself. What is that mission?" her voice lowered. "Winter's Wrath, savour your victory but know that you will never take what we do not want to give you. You have brought the town to its knees but we are not defeated. I am coming for you. You don't have to die to be defeated and I am going to defeat you. Me and everyone else in this town who is willing to fight and they are. They fought you to the bitter end and they will keep fighting. This is the opening shot in the war I am going to lead against you. I have several lifetimes of sins to redeem myself for and I am going to do it. Fear me, Winter's Wrath, as winter fears the sun in the heaven. No walls, no shackles, nothing on this earth can stop me. My death will prove your undoing." People were shouting outside the room. Lucille did not have long left. "Any townspeople or ghosts who wish to join me, you are welcome to. I know you do not wish to live under these murderers. Kylie, do not despair. I'll be your guardian angel. Winter's Wrath...I'm back,[bleep]s. I hope you're ready." With that, Lucille flipped the switch back to the off position and ran through the wall before a town hall worker slammed the door open. War was declared. She had to plan her offensive, and see who her allies were. ------ Pallada looked up from Alma as she listened to the message. She grinned widely. A challenge, from a ghost. It looked like she was going to do more here than just write her second monograph and collaborate with Professor Bardsley. "So, it looks like you will be needing my services," she grinned at the other mafiosos who were still gathered around the flagpole. "While this woman is right, any kingdom and/or empire will eventually fall, yours does not have to fall just as it has risen. I happen to know, from experience, ways to kill ghosts. Since you are all alive now, you take care of the living. I shall take care of the dead." Pallada tells Alma that she's here from hell and is here to study the town. She laughs loudly at what Travis says and thinks that yeah, maybe it could work. She, however, overhears Alma saying she's leaving and her hatred of traitors reawakens. So either Alma says or Pallada goes after the ghost-kids.
Lucille watches the town despairs but her resolve grows stronger. She hijacks the emergency broadcast system to send out a challenge to the mafia and tell anybody who wishes to join her to do so.
Pallada, however, offers her services as a ghost killer. |
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