Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. The chill present since yesterday had not gone away; as a matter of fact, it seemed to have intensified overnight, providing for the faithful to believe that this was all an omen of terrible things to come.

shlin28 was passing his time by reading his favorite book, a certain novel penned by Koushun Takami. As opposed to more traditional tomes such as, say, the Bible, or something from the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" series, shlin gained comfort and drew strength from a 600-odd page description of Japanese high school students brutally murdering each other.

While shlin could only aspire to be one of those fictional students; out on an island with a small chance of survival, he nevertheless saw some similarities between what he was reading and his current situation. For example: In both circumstances, people were out to kill him. After that little detail, nothing else really mattered too much. And, as a result, precautions needed to be taken. shlin was therefore reading in his attic, with a winter coat on, and using a tiny flashlight as his only source of illumination.

In his book, a lot of the people that hid did pretty well. It was only when they made noise that they were discovered and thus disposed of. Nobody really happened upon a hiding place by chance. Heck, the same thing had happened in the Frontroom! Most notably, two days ago when both Crazed Rabbit and woad&fangs had bought it by leaving their hiding places. Thus, shlin was trying the same strategy. So, he was content to just sit and read.

Time passed by.

In the distance, shlin heard the sound of a car coming up his street, and then stopping, by the sound of it pretty closely. The engine, he could even tell from the attic, was of good quality. It wouldn't be surprising if the car in question was a Mercedes.

shlin froze. They were coming for him. If he just stayed where he was... he'd be fine... maybe...

He heard the sound of his door being broken open and the footsteps of a man running into the foyer. "Great," shlin thought, he was in. He strained to hear further, but... nothing. Perhaps the mafioso, not identifying an alarm system (for there was none) had gotten confused and left. Or maybe he was only there for supplies. Or maybe... he was just sneaking around and meticulously checking every room for his prey.

He checked his watch and noted the second hand was on the twelve. He continued to strain to hear any sign of mafioso activity downstairs. After hearing nothing, he fiddled with his coat for a while, zipping and unzipping it repeatedly. After that had been done to satisfaction, he picked up the book and kept reading it, but only got through a sentence before he put it down in fright. He strained to hear again, heard nothing, and picked up the book again before putting it down again. He checked his watch.

The second hand was on the one.

This was taking too long. It would be better, a lot better, if he could just hear some sign of something, anything, that the mafioso had left or not; the sound of an engine, the sound of something breaking, just anything to break the monotony and the terrible fear that is known as silence!

Finally, some relief. He heard the sound of another door being thrown open, this time a lot louder and closer.

He panicked. The mafioso was on the second floor! He was closer, he knew where shlin was, he had to get a weapon-! Abandoning his position, he scrambled around the attic, hoping against hope that there was a gun, or a bat, or something he could use to defend himself - come on, it had to be there-

One floor below, the mafioso heard the racket being made and smiled. Finally, shlin had revealed himself. Calmly pumping his shotgun, he aimed and blasted at the section of the ceiling where shlin was tromping around in the attic directly above him.

Success! The entire section of the ceiling that wasn't hit by the fire fell away, as did everything above it, including shlin. Bleeding from one of his feet, shlin fell hard and couldn't move. Immobilized, he could really do nothing except listen to his pursuer.

"Dod't abaddod your plads just begause you're a bit sgared," the mafioso said, and fired again. That was the end of shlin28, who was not given an opportunity to take his killer's advice.

Coincidentally, RoadKill was reading the exact same book that shlin was (well, not the EXACT same book, but he was reading an identical copy, if one wanted to be picky) and also strategizing based on what he had read in there. While shlin was focused on the hiders, RK was instead interested in the hunters.

The most lethal characters in the book were those who had actively sought out their prey and prepared to fight. Yes, their survival rate wasn't that good, but they always took out one victim before finally succumbing. Considering this as well as the fact that the mafiosi probably weren't expecting a counter-attack aside from Beirut's woefully ineffective lynching system, RoadKill liked his odds of taking somebody out.

It was decided, then. RoadKill would take justice into his own hands. He was sick and tired of the lack of results and reasoned that soon there would be an attempt on his own life. If pre-emptive strikes worked for world leaders, it would work for him, too!

Packing two SMGs he had constructed from spare parts as well as a sniper rifle for long-distance work, RK set off from his house, dreaming dreams of glory and victory.

...He would catch a mafioso in the act, and challenge him to a duel, which of course the mafioso, caught in the act, could not resist, and even if he did, RoadKill would simply mow him down as he retreated. Then, the two of them would fight, preferably in an arena with the crowd cheering him on, and he would be their champion, saving them from the forces of darkness. And the two of them would go at it, shooting and ducking, running out of ammo until there wasn't much left, and then finally, RK would deliver the blow, wounding his opponent, and then he would come out of hiding to finish the job, and the mafioso would be plading for mercy, but RK would give him none, just as the mafioso would have given no mercy to the town, and then it would be over with RoadKill as the victorious savior, and he would get a medal, maybe even Beirut's job, and receive much adulation and love from the townspeople, and the women, oh yes, the women would be all over him, he would forever look more desirable to them, and they would-

SCREECH! A black car roared around a turn, now zooming along the street. Its driver leaned out the window and blasted a shotgun directly into RK's chest. With the black car now gone just as fast as it came, RoadKill fell, weapons still in hand. He died within eyesight of his house. The adventure would never be completed.

Later that day, Chief of Police Beirut gathered the remaining citizens of the Frontroom into the town square in order to make an announcement.

"Gentlemen," he began, it has come to my attention that the mafia are still doing their job of reducing this town's population. If you wish for this trend to cease, then I suggest you had start lynching the right people.

"Reducing population?" someone said. "Could you be any more insensitive? These are people's lives we're talking about here!"

"Indeed we are," said Beirut. "Thus, once again, I suggest that you start getting these right. Get voting!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (16)
Ichigo
makaikhaan
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius
Gaius Scribonius Curio
Sarathos
Beefy187
Tiberius of the Drake
KukriKhan
CountArach
Kommodus
Seamus Fermanagh
Kagemusha
discovery1
FactionHeir
Joe Monks

Suicide/Wrath of God:
|Sith|R|AntiWarmanCake88
Mithrandir
Fenring
Lord Winter
georgeman51

Killed:
Tratorix
Omanes Alexandrapolites
Andres
Craterus
LittleGrizzly
TevashSzat
Crazed Rabbit
woad&fangs
Rythmic
Quintus.J.Cicero
shlin28
RoadKill

Executed:
Privateerkev
Elite Ferret
peverpink
TinCow
Sasaki Kojiro