Fun Stuff > CHATTER
Mafia Game Thread - Transmetropolitan
henri bemis:
Masterpiece - cesium133, Gareth, Masterpiece, J, Linds, ev4n
The New Scum don't take kindly to the murder of their own - at least now. Yeah, Mitchell Royce was kind of a bastard, but Yelena? You don't fuck with Yelena and get away with it.
Unfortunately, today, they're all too angry (and possibly high) to notice that they're being played.
The Cat takes it in stride, though - she was bored of eating lizards anyway, and everyone she knows is way too fucking stingy with their cigarettes. She's ready to shit on the other end of the great proverbial litter box.
But she doesn't go out without a hearty laugh as you great fucking dumbasses swarm and kill her. She licks the last bit of lizard blood off her nose and thinks see you soon, dickheads!
Masterpiece is dead. He was The Cat.
Night 3
Get yer night actions in! 24 hours.
cesium133:
Shit. Gareth must've been the one that was lying. I'm bad at this. :psyduck:
Lines:
Hmm. Maybe bandwagons are actually a bad thing sometimes.
Or at least when they're not profitable...
J:
anyone feel like going to Long Pig for dinner?
henri bemis:
Fred Christ, half-alien love messiah, lounges in the headquarters of his Church of Christ, being 'tended' to by several of his Brides of Christ. With the success of his cult, the devout loyalty of his followers, and the substantial bankroll of The Smiler, he feels happier than a pig in well-seasoned shit, and powerful - powerful enough to do anything he wants.
So powerful, in fact, that he's thinking of ditching his loose alliance with The Smiler. Why should that dicksmear get all the credit for the hard work Fred has done staging riots at The Smiler's behest?
He knows enough secrets to bury both the candidates, and he thinks it's time to put them to good use. He knows Spider isn't wrong about these guys, and with the election so close, he's no longer sure he wants either of them in actual power. Fuck, if he helps bring them down, maybe he could be elected President!
But the candidates have ears everywhere, and his Brides may not be so devout, after all. Fred finishes, and shoos his Brides away. Then he falls into the deep, contented sleep of a raging megalomaniac, visions of the entire City licking his boots and groveling for his favor.
Not an hour later, one of his Brides sneaks back in, a dark cloak covering her usual habit. He's grinning in his sleep just before she drives a long serrated knife into his chest, twists, then disappears back into the night. He didn't even have time to call out. At least he died happy.
Linds, the not-exactly-innocent (but definitely not mafia) Fred Christ, cult leader, is dead.
Day 3
48 hours for votes.
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