Mafia III: Scene I
Negative shivered in the cold of the night, a great dislike for both the cold and the dark welling up inside of him. It was a good thing he was opening up his new night time resort, or else he didn’t think he could handle the night for much longer.
“Hey, you! Signature Ninja! Stop lurking back there and come get the fire popsicles ready to hand out!”
The Signature Ninja said nothing and failed to react (which was usual) except for doing as Negative had asked (ordered). They would be ready to open within thirty minutes. Negative momentarily glanced up at the carvings that hah been put into his favourite flamethrower two days previous – 7 seven VII, and was reassured. With a lucky number like that, nobody could touch him.
The Shadowed One, whose identity has been erased from all records except for the brain of iBrow, sat at the end of an unnecessarily long table that was meant to induce fear of the inevitable in the minds of all innocent people to cross by it. The other four Dark Hunters sat sporadically down the table.
“So that is the plan, yes? We target good old Lucky Number 3.”
Ancient shifted in his seat uncomfortably and glanced at the Master of Hats, who cleared his throat nervously.
“Erm, almighty powerful but not as powerful as iBrow Mr. Shadowed One… 3 isn’t the lucky number, it’s 7.”
“Hmm. Well, what in the blazes does it matter? We still agreed on 3, right?”
“No, actually. We agreed on Number 7.”
“But that isn’t lucky at all!”
“I believe that was the irony you had in mind when you suggested it, sir.”
“Very well, Hat Master! Begone with you, kill whoever it is! Now if you’ll all excuse me, I have a sword to polish.”
The Shadowed One stood up and then vanished from sight, while the Master of Hats sighed and exited the room, hoping that the victim-to-be had some sort of weapon he could use.
At the conveniently numbered House #9 on Ninth Street, Portalfig rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he rolled out of bed and to the front door, which he proceeded to open, revealing a rather large box. The former all-powerful Matoran stared at it for several seconds before it clicked into his mind why he found it suspicious.
“Nope, not doing it! I know what happens here, you know! I open this box and something jumps out and kills me!”
So Portalfig slammed the door shut – unfortunately for poor Portalfig, one does not simply not die when they are supposed to. Thanks to a conveniently located plot device (otherwise known as the Signature Ninja), the shockwaves emanating from the closing of the door caused the box to tip over and open, causing a great ball of fire to leap out and completely encase Portalfig’s home.
And that was all Portalfig could yell as he ran out of his home with his one remaining possession: a small note on it with a number 9, and some words along the lines of “muahaha you handed all the power to me”.
**Elsewhere Again because man these transitions are like so lame**
BZP Blade, the Dude with a Hat, the Medic (who thanks to a surgical mask at this time could not be identified), the creamy-like-a-milkshake wizard JIF and the also unidentified Detective were all waiting in line at Negative’s newly opened night time resort when Portalfig ran over and jumped ahead in the line, immediately swallowing the popsicle that Blade had been about to it.
Negative had a good chuckle about that – after all, it wasn’t every day you tricked someone into eating a popsicle made out of fire, and it also wasn’t every day someone voluntarily inhaled said popsicle.
Portalfig, on account of his insides now being on fire, was beginning to grow rather desperate, and so he burst into the swimming area and did a cannon ball into the pool. Unfortunately for the Matoran, said pool was full of lava, and he died.
“Well, that’s going to be bad for business.” Negative said. “I hope one of you is going to pay for the damage he’s done to my beautifully flaming home.”
Finding the absolute silence he got for a response highly suspicious, Negative turned around to face his customers and found himself staring into his own flamethrower.
“Tell me, Pyro… are you immune to your own medicine?” asked the wielder of the flamethrower.
“Well, I don’t really do medicine, if you know what I mean.”
“Shut up. Say, would you like a hat? I like hats. I have a hat! Do you have a hat?”
“No, no I do not. I’m a Toa of Fire, you see. I don’t really need a-”
“Take a hat.”
Negative barely managed to catch the sombrero thrown at him, and as he placed it on his head the Dark Hunter pulled the trigger, and seconds later the Pyro was nothing more than ashes.
“So much for that Lucky Number 7 of yours up there.” said the Master of Hats. “Clearly your number should have been the same as that official list thingy down at Town Hall. Oh well, sucks to be you!”
The Detective, hiding in the bushes nearby, almost cried with relief when the Master of Hats had vanished. That dude was one crazy sucker – however, from his words the Detective had matched up five possible suspects (although he wasn’t sure he wanted to lynch the guy yet, considering he’d eliminated the danger of the Pyro).
Villager (Portalfig, Assigned #9) killed by Pyro.
Pyro (Negative, Assigned #7) killed by Dark Hunter.
#2 – 95% chance that the suspect likes sombreros
#11 – Possible secondary target of the Pyro
#14 – No alibi for the night of the murders
#16 – A new face around town, lacking possessions
#20 – Combined the spirits of Portalfig and Negative for unknown purposes
[color=#008080;]Voting ends in two days. Vote for the number you believe responsible - let's see if the clues lead you to the right guy![/color]