Everybody tries to put me down
They try to make me drown
And everybody has a reason to kill me
They've got the art of murder down to a tee

There will never be an end for me
Why can't you see?

That I'm...
Hard to Kill
I always was...
Hard to Kill
I'll always be...
Hard to Kill
Hard to Kill
Hard to Kill
Yeah

And I know the end will never be near
I'm always gonna be here
You may work and try to end what I've done
But I have already won

--Bat Dude (lyrics available at killermovies.com forum)



Summary of Events, Night Thirteen


Sasaki Kojiro was walking along Atlantic towards the Abbatoir, collar turned up to deal with the wind from the Northeast. It would bring a Nor'Easter in a day or two, but for now it was bitingly dry and more than a little chilly. It was then that he noticed the wet sidewalk and puddles at his feet...on an otherwise dry evening. A glance up near the third story revealed bottles suspended over the sidewalk, faintly gold in the dim light.

Sasaki did not hesitate, but kicked it into high gear and ran. He covered the next block rapidly, happily on dry pavement, and then turned off and slowed down once he reached Seaside Park. He caught his breath, walking carefully on the paths and keeping clear of the darker areas underneath the pines. As he neared the fountain at the center of the park, all of the sprinklers went off, drenching everything nearby with a gentle mist that hung in the chilly air. <> The answer that leapt to mind was not pleasant, and a quick look near the fountain seemed to reveal large glass bottles perched on the edge.

Sasaki left the park at a run, making for the boardwalk and skipping a trip to the Abbatoir's hotel bar in favor of getting home as quick as he could. It had been years since Sasaki had run this hard, but sometimes you just wanted a little distance as quick as you could manage it.


Chaotix was taking things much more slowly. He'd enjoyed a good steak at Felix's and then began the brief walk home. The street was wide and well lit, and there were plenty of people around. He had on his vest and his "equalizer" was in his pocket. All-in-all, he was as ready as a Fatling could be.

He was still surprised when the masked figure stepped out the front door of the shop maybe 40 feet away, leveling the long barrel of a Buntline special in his direction. The shop had been closed for hours, nobody should have been there at all. Chaotix ducked backwards quickly, spinning to check if there were any other threats. There was only a man with an umbrella.

That's when things got interesting. The first attacker had squeezed off one round from the Buntline, which hammered into the mailbox Chaotix had spun behind. He was pinned there, with the umbrella man slowly advancing. Chaotix went for his piece.

At about that same moment, a length of weighted fishing line snapped down from the window of the apartment above the store, the lead weight crashing into the Buntline Special, knocking it from the shooter's grasp. In the street itself, a pckup truck with two occupants pulled up just behind the umbrella man. On the back of the pickup, the second masked occupant was operating a huge Hollywood style wind machine. The instant gale from the immense fan snatched up the umbrella, tearing it out of the umbrella wielder's grasp and leaving him facing Chaotix unarmed and unsupported.

Chaotix fired, striking the umbrella man in the midsection and driving him back. The man grunted, but did not fall, turning and smashing through a storefront window to get out of the line of fire. The first attacker dove for his Buntline, grabbing it while rolling, and continued his roll into the alley. Suddenly the odds didn't look so good. Both attackers made their escape, as did the rescuers. In seconds, Chaotix found himself alone in the street. Shakily, he made his way to the nearest precinct house to report the incident.

Sasaki was almost home now, just coming up on his new bungalow in North Oceanside, opposite Greek Town. He reached the walkway to his door...and stopped. Running through the seam at the bottom of the front door was a thin rivulet of water, adding slowly to the puddle on the front stoop. Sasaki was off and running again.

This time, he didn't stop until he'd stiff-armed his way through the revolving doors of the Hotel Abbatoir and made a sharp right turn, striding into the hotel bar.

"Welcome, Mister Kojiro," said the cocktail waitress. "You're expected. Please follow me."

Sasaki was stunned. After a brief pause he decided he might as well get it over with, and followed the waitress. Normally, following her would have been a pleasant distraction -- Sasaki never ceased being amazed at how many directions women could move at the same time -- but tonight he was a little worried. She led him to a table whereupon a tumbler of scotch already sat, waiting.

Also waiting was Twilightblade, [I]leaning casually against the back wall of the bar, his gleaming leather trench coat glimmering in the dim but friendly light. One hand held the huge polesword of which he was so inordinately fond.

"Hello, Kojiro," said 'Blade with a grin. "Have a drink or three on me."

He dropped a twenty on the table, tipped his hat, and walked from the bar. As he walked away, there were a quick series of three gouts of flame accompanied by small explosions. Sasaki was grimly certain that they came from spots on Atlantic Avenue, the Seaside Park fountain....and a little bungalow North of here. He paid serious attention to his drinking.

As he brought the fourth tumbler of scotch to his lips, a kunai flashed through the door to the bar shattering the glass onto his table. A second blade flashed into the semi-darkness above him, severing a small bottle of golden powder. This smashed on the wet table and caused an instant eruption of flame.

Sasaki fell backwards from the explosion, singed a bit but unharmed aside from the lump on the back of his head from where he'd hit the floor. His hat, however, was no more. He'd left the fedora sitting on the table....


Ricera10 moved warily along the street. Things were quiet, but there was nobody in sight. He still moved cautiously, checking potential threat points and scanning the rooflines. It didn't help.

The sniper was 435 yards away, quite invisible to Ricera10 at that distance. Courtesy of the Springfield '03's scope, however, the sniper had an excellent view of Ricera. A single shot slammed into Ricera's left knee, dropping him to the pavement and crippling him. A few instants later, the second shot took the long-barreled Buntline Special right out of Ricera10's hands, amputating his index finger into the bargain.

Cursing and in pain, Ricera10 rolled to put a car between himself and the direction of the shots. That's when he saw the rabbit. Gore spattered and gruesome despite the inane plastic smile, and holding a double-barreled shottie. The rabbit looked down at him, pulling a long puff on the dangling cigarette.

"What's up Doc?"

The rabbit then pulled both triggers, the double slugs taking Ricera10's head almost clean off. He quietly pulled an object from the pack on his back, dropping the violin bow on the corpse.

"B'dah-b'dah-b'dah -- that's all folks," said the rabbit as he faded into the dark Fatlington night.


With caution and a little planning,woad&fangs had made it safely back to his apartment. Checking the 'tells' he'd left on the door, he made his way inside. Locking up, he quickly tossed off a 'night-cap' and got ready for bed.

As he began to drift off to sleep, he got a sudden wake-up call. Tommy guns are not, after all, the subtle way to get into an apartment. Dozens of rounds tore the door to fragments, knocking it off its hinges, while woad&fangs shot off his bed and went to the wall of his bedroom door.

He'd spent time re-making the interior walls with bricks -- they'd hold off anything short of a bazooka. His bedroom door was trashed quickly, but woad&fangs was now armed and ready to greet whoever came through the door.

Nobody did. Instead, a couple of bulky chemical grenades came through. 'Willy-Pete' was a coloquial name that was all too gentle for labeling the white phosphorus weapons that they were. The intense heat and smoke were stifling and the few flakes of phosphorous that landed on woad&fangs seemed to be burning through his tee-shirt like granular fire. The pain was intense.

He couldn't have stayed longer than he did, the heat and pain were too intense and the smoke was already choking the upper half of the room. Three steps was as far as woad&fangs got, however, as all 5 attackers hammered him with their Tommy guns as he tried to break clear of the bedroom. He was riddled as badly as Clyde Barrow and died almost immediately.

The shooters left the apartment to burn.


Joe Monks snapped awake, feeling a sting in his leg. He was someplace strange. <>

"Wakey, wakey!"

A smiling face loomed into his vision. Monks couldn't seem to move, feeling groggy.

"Math quiz time," said the smiling face. "What is the sum of 2, 2, and 1?"

Still perplexed, not quite understanding things, Joe mouthed the word "five" as though it were a question. He saw the man's smile grow wider...and then he began to understand.

"That's right, Joe! You're reading me five by five...."

The next morning Joe Monk's limbs and head would be found on the steps to Fermanagh's home, artfully arranged to form the number 'five.' The torso was never recovered.


Morning Session, Day Fourteen


"So anyway, that's what we think happened, based on the evidence. Mildred's been admitted to Mercy for observation, which is where I'll be heading after this..."

Fermanagh was obviously flustered, but continued on with his notes.

"Your lynching efforts weren't successful on Day Eleven. Beefy187 was an innocent townie who our sources say spent most of his time protecting slashandburn with various other townies. He is rumored to have participated in the killing of DisgruntledGoat, but as Goat was a mafia Don, it can hardly be credited against him. I think we all made a bad mistake there."

"Greyblades and Andres are both thought to have been Wiseguys, but we have no indication that either was working with the mafia and at least some indication that Andres was involved in what were believed to be vigilante actions on the part of Fatlington."

Fermanagh continued down his list.

"Skooma Addict, Cowhead418, and Gaius Scribonius Curio were all townies, with no indication that any were involved in criminal actions against the town."

"To our good fortune, however, we can take some comfort that Ichigo and Veronica "Trouble" Tuloso were killed that night as well. Both were, according to our research efforts, mafiosi. Tuloso was reputed to be a Made Gangster -- so much for the 'gentler sex' -- while Ichigo was a mafia Luca. Their deaths bring us one step closer to victory."

Fermanagh left the room quickly, headed for Mercy Hospital and Mildred. Shinseikhaan reviewed the procedures for the upcoming lynch vote and dismissed the committee.



OOC

Lynch votes are due no later than 1200 Eastern on Friday the 17th.



The Fate of the Fatlings

Attacked (36): Beefy187 (n1, n6), DJGingivtis (n2), Gaius Scribonius Curio (n2), Beskar (n3), Double A (n3), Lord Winter (n3, n5), Andres (n4, n9, n11), Diana Abnoba (n4), Reenk Roink (n4), Iskander3.1 (n5), Proletariat (n5, n5, n7, n7), TinCow (n6), Shinseikhaan (n7), Centurion1 (n8), Sasaki Kojiro (n8, n9, n10, n10, n13), Moros (n9, n10), Pannonian (n9), Sigurd (n9), askthepizzaguy (n11), Kukrikhan (n11), El Diablo (n12), LittleGrizzly (n12), spL1Tp3r50nality (n12), Chaotix (n13)

Killed (29): Quintus.JC (n1), The Stranger (n1), Death is Yonder (n2), pevergreen (n2), Yaropolk (n2), Myrddraal (n3), Jolt (n4), Craterus (n5), johnhughthom (n5), Leet Erickson (n5), Psychonaut (n5), Iskander3.1 (n6), Khazaar (n6), Kommodus (n6), scottishranger (n6), Aggonyduck (n8), Beskar (n8), Cultured Drizzt Fan (n8), glyphz (n8), shlin28 (n8), Diana Abnoba (n9), DisgruntledGoat (n9), Moros (n10), Reenk Roink (n10), Andres (n11), Ichigo (n11), LittleGrizzly (n12), Pannonian (n12), Joe Monks (n13), Ricera10 (n13), woad&fangs (n13)

Lynched (13): Factionheir (d2), CountArach (d3), GeneralHankerchief (d3), discovery1 (d4), atheotes (d5), A Very Super Market (d6), Kagemusha (d6), Rhyfelwher (d7), Ironside (d8), DJGingivtis (d9), Lord Winter (d10), Beefy187 (d11), Centurion1 (d12), El Diablo (d13)

Wogged (9): Nole4694 (n5), Truepraetorian (n5), Dutch_guy (n6), Warmaster Horus (n7), Greyblades (n10), Skooma Addict (n10), Cowhead418 (n11), Gaius Scribonius Curio (n11), Veronica "Trouble" Toluso (n11)

Still Alive (23): a completely inoffensive name, askthepizzaguy, Caius, Chaotix, Crazed Rabbit, DoubleA, gibsonsg91921, Haudegen, Joooray, Kukrikhan, Proletariat, Sasaki Kojiro, Shinseikhaan, Sigurd, slashandburn, spL1tp3r50naL1ty, SSNeoperestroika, TinCow, Tratorix, Twilightblade, White_Eyes:D, Xehh II, YLC.