Night 7


While most of the people had opted to return straight home after the bloody business at the latest Gacaca session, one individual had decided on a different course. Stig made a beeline straight for Keke’s bar, the only oasis in town. A mug of dark malted sweet stout, brewed at the nearby Brasseries Et Limonaderies Du brewery, was precisely what was needed to fortify him for the coming night, he decided – far better than the machetes and rifles used by most of his countrymen to ward off an enemy that plainly could not be stopped by force alone.

He pushed his way through the door to find himself the only individual in the serving area – save for the bartender, who sat dejectedly behind the bar watching a late-night news program. As he approached the bar, Stig began to wonder about the motives of this curious criminal syndicate, the Cosa Nuova. Everyone had assumed the usual expected motives of organized crime – money, power, influence. However, if things continued as they were, the Cosa Nuova would inherit only an economically ravaged ghost town.

The bartender looked up hopefully. “What can I get for you?” he asked. Stig smiled warmly as he sat at the bar and ordered his usual. Even in the darkest of times, he was one customer that could be counted on faithfully.

For a while, the two conversed easily, grateful for the privilege of taking their minds off of the recent disasters. However, in the back of his mind Stig knew he couldn’t stay for long. Exercising an impressive amount of self-control, he downed the last of his single mug and bid his friend farewell.

“Stay safe,” the bartender urged as Stig exited the bar. Stig gave a casual salute and closed the door behind him.

Though he didn’t live far from Keke’s, he had made it less than a third of the way home when he was startled a voice directly behind him. “Excuse me!” it said simply.

Stig whirled about to see a slight angular figure wearing a cowl that covered its eyes. In the dark and with the disguise, it was impossible to identify the figure. He didn’t have long to wonder, however, as the next moment he was bludgeoned in the forehead with a heavy wooden club.

Everything turned white and his head swam as Stig felt his legs give out. While not quite unconscious, he was completely dazed. In this barely perceptive state, he felt himself being dragged roughly along the ground. The darkness around him seemed to grow deeper. The shadowy attacker dumped him in a corner, then stooped over him brandishing something sharp.

At that moment, Stig heard shouting coming from further away. “Get away from him!” the voice was shouting. “I won’t let you get away with another murder!”

The dark figure turned sharply, looking in the direction of the new voice. It immediately took off at a dead run. Stig was able to make out two sets of running footsteps as the pursuit commenced. The footsteps soon faded into the distance.

Gradually, the shapes around him came back into focus as Stig regained full consciousness. He found himself in a dark ally, his head splitting but otherwise unharmed. Picking himself up, he began dragging himself home as quickly as he could.

…

Later that night, AndresTheCunning was awakened by the sound of wheels moving across a tiled surface and the feeling of being jarred. At first he thought it was dark all around him, but he quickly realized that this was because his face was pressed into a molded cutout. Trying to move, he realized he was strapped face-down onto something soft that was moving along at a brisk pace. If he had been able to see, he would have realized he was being pushed down a dim, narrow hallway on a gurney.

“Mmph!” said Andres, struggling to lift his head out of the mold. This he failed to do, and soon the gurney came to a stop. The sound of wheels squeaking against the floor was replaced by the brisk clicking of shoes against the linoleum.

“Well, it looks as if you’ve awakened,” a decidedly hostile voice said. “As you can no doubt perceive I am not in the mood for conversation tonight… least of all with a meddler such as yourself. If even the very intelligent cannot understand our noble aspirations, what of an ignorant fool like yourself who blunders into obstructing the good of his own race?”

“Mmph,” protested Andres, trying to argue. He found himself unable to make the eloquent argument he was hoping for.

“Well, no matter,” the voice sighed. “We have ways of putting even the worst specimens to good use.” There was the sound of various metal implements clinking against each other, then a sharp whirring sound. “If you survive this operation, unlikely as that outcome seems to me, you will see the error of your ways and will inherit a place in the new world order that is coming.”

Suddenly Andres felt a searing pain in his skull. He thrashed desperately, trying to scream into the mold covering his face. After a few seconds of this, the whirring sound stopped, though his head still throbbed.

Andres heard the distinctive click of a button on a tape recorder. “Stage one complete,” the acidic voice said. “I’ve removed a piece of the subject’s skull. This time the nanites will be injected directly into the medulla oblongata to facilitate rapid transmission to the vital parts of the brain. Severe system shock caused by the release of adrenalin is expected.”

The ‘surgeon’ standing over Andres drew a long syringe and inserted it deeply into the divot in his patient’s head. Andres’ body froze as he went numb from shock. After the agony of the first stage, this sensation was almost merciful.

However, it didn’t last long. Unconsciousness took him in minutes, and soon the last of his vital functions shut down as his brain succumbed to the nanite assault.

…

Despite the discovery of the body of AndresTheCunning, stuffed into a culvert running underneath one of the town roads, some of the people detected a hint of something like hope in the demeanor of mayor Rwigema.

“My friends,” he said to the gathered assembly, “though we haven’t yet defeated the Cosa Nuova, we are having some success in slowing them down. In the last three days they have managed to kill only three of us. We may yet have a glimmer of hope.”

“However,” he cautioned, “we must make the most of every opportunity. We have very little time left. Use every last shred of wisdom you possess to discover the guilty in our midst, or we are lost.”

Status List

Murdered

BlackAxe3001
GeneralHankerchief
Crazed Rabbit
rdece.jabolko
Kagemusha
discovery1
CountArach
Xehh II
Killfr3nzy
sapi
AndresTheCunning

Lynched

Warluster
Tran
Xdeathfire
Sasaki Kojiro
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan

Suicide

Omanes Alexandrapolites the Idiot
Ichigo

Died of Mysterious Causes

Ignoramus
Motep
Myrddraal
Destroyer of Hope

Still Alive

Caius Flaminius
HughTower
pevergreen
RoadKill
Seamus Fermanagh
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Stig
TwilightBlade
Warmaster Horus