Capo de Tutti Capi - II [Concluded]
Late one night
When we were all in bed
Old Mother Leary
Left a lantern in the shed
And when the cow kicked it over,
She winked her eye and said,
"There’ll be a hot time
In the old town, tonight."
-- Anonymous
Fatlington – Day One – Mid-Afternoon
Fatlington lay in the sun like a huge checkerboard of flat black-tar roofs and light grey streets. The air shimmered in waves off the black roofs, heated by the blazing August sun, tar sticky from the heat and speckled with broken clamshells deposited by Seagulls as they used gravity to open dinner for them. The hottest part of the year and, for Fatlington, the biggest part of the year for the merchants and businesses who catered to the tourists visiting the Jersey Shore.
Six decades past the white beaches lining the boardwalk would have been crowded with “the quality” taking in the breeze and swimming in the cool Atlantic. Six decades had not been kind to Fatlington. Like a courtesan well past her prime, Fatlington still painted on a gay face for the tourists, but these days “the quality” were in Palm Beach or Havana and Fatlington was left to cater to the factory workers of Allentown and every other urban armpit in North Jersey or Eastern Pennsylvania. Like calls to like.
It had been a normal summer until July neared August. Then the outbreaks had begun. Very few died, but dozens were struck with cholera and several others seemed to be showing signs of the Spanish flu. That flu had visited Fatlington just after the War to End All Wars had wrapped up and put 15% of the population into the ground. Now, only a few years after the latest War to End All Wars, New Jersey authorities were quick to respond with a 30-day quarantine. Nobody would be leaving Fatlington before Labor Day.
Tourists screamed about their jobs and needing to get home, the locals screamed about the tourists, and the Fates promptly added a heat wave of epic proportions to turn up the pressure. Atropos, apparently, had always taken an interest in Fatlington.
Mayor TosaInu, away at Trenton for a conference when the quarantine began, moved Heaven and earth to get something done for his beleaguered town, but to no avail. In the corridors of power in Trenton, his most persuasive arguments could not counter one basic truth – it was only Fatlington after all, not somewhere that mattered.
But to some, especially a small group of “entrepreneurs” who met infrequently in Havana, Fatlington had value…once a few changes had been made.
“We’ll have to make a few changes folks!” said Fatlington’s Police Commissioner Seamus Fermanagh. “Hizzoner sent me the instructions just before the phone system crapped out.”
The best and brightest of Fatlington were gathered in the convention center ballroom. The scene reminded a few of them of the meetings from ‘the last time.’ Then, some of these best and brightest had been meeting to decide the fate of others as a Committee of Vigilance. Dozens had died before the mafia had been brought to heel. It had all started with a meeting just like this one. A collective shiver ran through the room despite the sweltering heat.
Fermanagh wiped his face with a handkerchief. He’d begun his morning with doughnuts and coffee for nearly 3 decades, but it was a long while since he’d followed breakfast with 10 hours of walking a beat. The sweat was already through his shirts and working its way through the waistband of his trousers.
“We’re in for it again, and that’s no lie.”
Silence filled the room.
“Tosa and I, well, we’ve been hearing rumors that the epidemics are a put-up job to set the stage for another takeover effort by those eye-talyun scum. Nothing we can act on or convince the governor to stop the quarantine, but the story is too consistent from too many snitches. The loss of the phone lines pretty well confirms it.”
Fermanagh paused, looking over the figures in the room. A wealth of expressions – and non-expressions – played across the faces before him.
“We know their methods now – they infiltrate our best and brightest and then try to eliminate anyone that they can’t convince to join them in their scheme. Which means, of course, that the criminal scum who’ve started all this – who’ve killed dozens of people, many of them paying tourists for God’s sake – are right here in this room.”
Fermanagh paused a moment to let that sink in.
"Hizzoner has informed me that he’s re-instituting the Committee of Vigilance that saved us the last time. Some of you know how this works, but let me remind you all. Today, you’ll discuss and then select a Director of the Committee. Each day thereafter, you will vote to lynch the one among you who has proven themselves to be part of the mafia scum seeking to destroy us and we’ll keep lynching until we’ve ended the problem.”
Cries of “that’s insane” and “Fermanagh, stop the bull___” and one quiet “rats, not again” bounced around the room.
“Pipe DOWN!”
Fermanagh didn’t shout much, so when he did it worked – if only from the surprise value.
“Of course its hideous people, but experience has taught us that it – and pretty much nothing else – works. The director will get a squad of police to protect her or him during their duties – we will select a new director every other day – and of course the Director can’t vote except for their tie-breaking powers. My officers will pass around a sheet with the particulars on voting and the like.”
“Now, this burg is about ready to explode, so my officers and I are going to be hard pressed to keep order. I’ve a few secret detectives I’ve put in place to help you, and I hope they’ll get the information to you about who deserves the chop. But it’s going to be up to you to save us all. Get your heads together and then select someone.”
Only a few heard the muttered, “…pray for us sinners, now and at the hour…” that Fermanagh actually ended his speech with.
It would be a long, hot summer.
OOC:
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Vote to Select a Director for Days 2 & 3. Selections must be recorded in the thread no later than 0900 EST (1400 GMT) 5 February 2008.
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Originally Posted by TosaInu
Re: Capo de Tutti Capi - II
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