Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. Massive thunderheads drifted about overhead. Very soon there would be noise. It had already begun to pour, adding to the overall dreary, bleak atmosphere.

Beefy187 was by now very concerned with all the murder and lynchings in the Kingdom of Peace and Love, but after being cooped up in his house for over a week watching the same movies over and over, he decided to do what had traditionally been done for decades on these kinds of rainy days: risk going to the video store.

Upon entering he was somewhat surprised to see the counter manned by an impeccably dressed man in a fedora and trenchcoat. The man looked up, spotting Beefy.

"Excellent day, isn't it," he said. "The sun's out, the birds are singing, and there's not a cloud in the sky. It's days like these that make you glad to be alive."

"Uh... what?" Beefy asked. "I just came from outdoors and it was pouring rain. I think it was starting to thunder, too."

"Oh, you mean outside," said the man, still smiling. His unwavering grin was beginning to scare Beefy. "No, I was quoting a line from a movie I had just been watching before you entered. So, how may I help you?"

"Uh, um, I'd like to rent a movie..." replied Beefy, "...do you have anything to recommend? Given the current situation, something about crime would be appropriate, but preferably something with a good ending. Maybe The Untouchables."

The man's smile never wavered. "The Untouchables, eh? So not a classic like, oh I don't know, The Godfather? That really is an excellent movie, well-worked, fantastically shot, wonderful storyline, and on top of that, the acting really is superb.'

Somewhat thrown by the grinning man's enthusiasm, Beefy tried to find the words to disillusion him. "Yes, well, I... ah, you see, I've seen that one before. Now, The Untouchables, well, that one, I haven't yet, and..."

His voice trailed off with the clerk still watching him. When Beefy finally went silent, the clerk entered back into the conversation. "Another thing I like about The Godfather is the realism present that you just don't see in The Untouchables."

"What's that?" Beefy asked.

"The mafia wins." Dumbfounded, Beefy watched the man draw a revolver from his pocket and fire, once. As Beefy's lifeless body hit the floor the man gave a wry smile and drew a Cuban cigar from his pocket, lit it, and walked slowly from the scene, out into the rain.

In the same rain and thunder, the black Mercedes drove on, its shiny new windshield being wiped for the first time in the deluge. Instead of searching the town for persons, the driver had a new tactic. Since there were so few townspeople left, it would be fruitless to search for them at random. So instead, the mafioso had a print-out of the home address of everyone who was still alive.

Taking the paper in his hands, the mafioso ran down the list with one finger and then paused at a particular name. Yes, that one would do... it was close by, as well.

He turned onto his soon-to-be victim's street, and turned off the headlights. In the pouring rain, his black Mercedes would be nearly invisible. A flash of lightning illuminated the addresses, which was all the mafioso needed. After another flash had confirmed that he had the right house, the mafioso stepped out into the rain, his trusty shotgun in hand.

He strode up to the front door, already dripping wet, and prepared to kick it in. Instead, however, he found the door flying back TOWARD him, crushing his already-broken nose. Screaming and cursing unintelligibly, he dropped the shotgun as both hands went to his poor, tortured nose.

Out of the rain stepped Sigurd Fafnesbane, shirtless, long hair flowing. He was gripping a very long axe and smiling.

"So, we meet at last," Sigurd said. "You have come to my house to kill me, but it will not be that easy. You will have to earn this kill. We shall duel, as in the old style. Defend yourself!"

"I habe no weapod," the mafioso said, temporarily stopping Sigurd.

"Your weapon is lying on the ground," Sigurd said. "If I were you, I'd make an attempt to get it, to even the odds. However, this is not going to - HAPPEN!" He swung his axe, aiming for the mafioso's neck. He only hit air, however, as the mafioso dropped to the ground to avoid the blow.

The mafioso, whose clothes were already soaking due to all the rain and the blood pouring out of his nose, now began rolling on the grass to avoid Sigurd's downward chops. His first roll was out of sheer survival, missing the axe by a hair, but he quickly realized that he could strategize his rolls. His next two dodges, both far too close for comfort, moved him closer to the shotgun, which was now almost within reach...

A quick, unexpected chop from Sigurd nixed that idea, blocking the mafioso from his shotgun and also catching his suitjacket. Sigurd, thinking he had pinned his victim, drew a second, smaller axe and prepared to use it but the mafioso had simply rolled out of his suitjacket, leaving him only in his shirt and tie, both of which were soaked.

His tie. Working furiously, he undid the knot, and with one ferocious yank got it out of his collar. Scrambling backwards, tie in hand, the mafioso worked to put some more distance between himself and Sigurd.

"Eben iv I die, you'll ged pneumodiub ad die frob dat," he said.

"Maybe I will," said Sigurd, who had left the first axe pinned to the suitjacket and was using the smaller one, "But at least I'll have taken you with me."

He drew back his axe and prepared to swing once again. However, this time the mafioso was prepared. He drew his tie and cracked it forward like a whip. Hooking around Sigurd's axe, the tie yanked it from his hands and sent it harmlessly flying far away from the battle. Sigurd had a slightly surprised look on his face but recovered quickly, turning around and making for the first axe.

The mafioso cracked his tie again, this time wrapping around Sigurd's leg. The mafioso pulled, sending Sigurd face-first into the ground, still without a weapon. Satisfied, he began crawling, scrambling, anything, moving his body as fast as he could toward the shotgun, now without fear of being turned into mafioso sushi.

Sigurd, wiping his eyes free of mud, glanced around and gasped. He saw what the mafioso was doing, so his trajectory. He had to get... there... first...

It would have been a footrace, but both participants were down on all fours, moving as fast as they could through the muck that was formerly a well-kept lawn to the shotgun. Sigurd was more physically fit and was moving faster, but the mafioso was closer and had the better angle...

The mafioso got his hands on the gun a split second before Sigurd did, which was just enough time for him to turn around and club Sigurd in the face without. The viking warrior was sent sprawling, lying spread-eagled on the ground, now bleeding in the face himself. The mafioso, meanwhile, calmly got up, pumped his gun, and blasted Sigurd in the chest. Touching his wreck of a nose, the mafioso paused, and then for good measure, shot Sigurd in the head.

"You know," he said to the corpse, "if you had cobe out the door wib a gud, I would habe been dead. Sobetides you should just shoot."

He walked back to the Mercedes and drove off.

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

"Gentlemen," he began, "There obviously aren't that many more of us. Our successes against the mafia, to put it one way, have sorely been lacking. You have to get this one right!"

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

Still alive: (7)
Ichigo
makaikhaan
Gaius Scribonius Curio
Sarathos
KukriKhan
Kagemusha
discovery1

Suicide/Wrath of God:
|Sith|R|AntiWarmanCake88
Mithrandir
Fenring
Lord Winter
georgeman51
Caius
Tiberius of the Drake
Kommodus

Killed:
Tratorix
Omanes Alexandrapolites
Andres
Craterus
LittleGrizzly
TevashSzat
Crazed Rabbit
woad&fangs
Rythmic
Quintus.J.Cicero
shlin28
RoadKill
CountArach
Joe Monks
Beefy187
Sigurd Fafnesbane

Executed:
Privateerkev
Elite Ferret
peverpink
TinCow
Sasaki Kojiro
Seamus Fermanagh
FactionHeir