i've seen your eyes shine
just get through the night this time
resolve is weak i abuse it
you turn your cheek then i'll loose it
life just slips through my fingers
i blame him and i hurt him
turn the screw rub the dirt in
there's dirt under my fingers
hold onto life
hold on despite this
i've seen your eyes shine
just get through the night this time
just get through the night this time
i wanted it and i can't get
it was heaven sent so i spent it
the sky just slipped through my fingers

-- Queen Adreena "Childproof"


Summary of Events, Night Seventeen

He felt horrible. Haudegen had walked out of the meeting session in a bit of a funk. Louis VI had accosted him briefly, but he'd pushed him aside, but then...he just felt dizzy and sick and downright awful. He headed back for the apartment. He barely made it, then fell on the bed and passed out.

An hour later, a group of concerned citizens arrived -- by coincidence of course -- at the cafe across from Haudegen's building.

"Are we ready to end this?," asked White_eyes:D. He'd been working towards this from the outset -- he actually regretted QJC's death now -- and after all the trouble he wanted to be there at the death.

askthepizzaguychecked his umbrella one last time and then answered White_eyes:D.

"More than ready. I had planned for this to end earlier this evening. Fermanagh apparently lacked the testicular fortitude to do what was needful."

White_eyes both sneered and chuckled at the same moment. Apparently, he'd thought just as highly of Fermanagh's decision as had 'Pizzaguy. The third person at the table didn't appear quite so comfortable with the "edge" the discussion had taken.

"Look guys," said SSNeoperestroika. "This may be necessary, but I just can't make myself enjoy it. My work has been on the opposite side of things. This just seems a bit...off."

"You don't have to enjoy it, just do your bit," said 'Pizzaguy. "We wait for either Double A or Joooray to turn up, then we head across the street. It'll take all four of us to make it work without risking ourselves, but Louis made sure he's not going anywhere."

"How?"

"Neo, I just don't know. Louis has always done what he's said he'd do though."

The hours passed by, but nobody came to fill the quartet. There were too many people in the apartment building for just three to get everything to happen in the proper sequence. The conversation got as stale as the cigarettes they smoked. The coffee turned bitter, even when they'd called for a fresh pot.

"They both said they'd do it," said 'Pizzaguy for the 1000th time. This time the answer didn't suffice. Neo and White_eyes walked away.



Morning Session, Day Eighteen


Fermanagh arrived late for the session, looking flustered.

"Thanks ever so for attending," said slashandburn, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "Hope we didn't bump something IMPORTANT from your schedule."

"It's over!"

The much-reduced committee started talking over each other in a rush. After a moment they settled down and Fermanagh continued.

"When my lads cruised by Haudegen's to "suggest" he be sure to attend, they couldn't find him. They rummaged through things and found all sorts of inciminating stuff -- including a set of matching .28 caliber Baretta pistols. We've a warrant out for his arrest now."

"Everything, our informants, the results of the investigations...EVERYTHING says he's the last one. You've done it! You've saved Fatlington! We're SAFE at last. I know my officers we have him in custody within hours. God bless you for your efforts!"


Mid-Day, Day Eighteen, S.S. Posterior Betwixt Legs

Haudegen already hated the stink of fish, and it was still a long way to Cuba. He wasn't really looking forward to his reception all that much either. He'd awakened early, feeling horrible still, and assumed he'd been drugged. If they could get to him that easily, it was only a matter of time -- and the preceding day's lynch vote hadn't given him much hope for today.

Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor. Haudegen took up the only item he'd brought with him from his apartment in the hectic rush to get out and away before the police came by to "encourage" his attendance at the meeting. Out came the violin and bow. If he played well enough, maybe he wouldn't even smell the fish. The strains of a Sicilian love song floated on the air as the fishing smack headed south. 'Speak softly love....'


Hotel Nacional, Habana Cuba


Luciano picked up the phone on the second ring. Only a very few people had THAT number, people who deserved his attention.

"Completely?"

"No, No, I agree Meyer, just leave it be for now."

"Damn! Hoover's people? "I thought you had pictures of him..."

"Hunting commies?"

"Yeah, bad coincidence."

"Agreed. We'll leave Fatlington be....for now."



OOC

Game Over, Townies Win. More specifics to follow.