The Naib was brushing off her sword-fighting outfit when Atheotes was dragged in.
"Another day, another lynch," she said. "What's this one done?"
"He's always Mafia!" yelled split. "Just look at him!"
Renata looked at him. Then she looked at split. "I thought we were looking for vampires," she said.
"Well ..." said split. He scooted off to the side and was replaced by TinCow.
"Atheotes is always Mafia!" said TinCow.
"I see," said Renata. "Do you have anything to say in your own defense, Atheotes?"
The accused Dagger glared, well, glared daggers at her.
"This is so pathetic!" he cried. "I'm never Mafia -- well there was that cult thing recently, but that doesn't count. And I vaguely remember something before that, but it was over so fast it might as well have never happened. But other than that, I'm never Mafia! Never! This is all just some ridiculous in-joke that's gone way too far, and it always gets me in trouble, and it's Just. Not. Fair! I'M SO SICK OF IT!"
"I see," said Renata. "So you'd like to be Mafia."
Atheotes' mouth opened as if he were about to rant some more, but then he thought better of it. He regarded the Naib silently.
"Wait right here," she told him. She sent one of the Daggers running off for supplies, then set about touching up the shine on her black boots.
"Are you going to pretend to fight me, too?" asked Atheotes.
"Ah, no," said Renata. "I think you've been wronged. You should get the chance to do something about that."
"Really?" said Atheotes. "Because I hear you cheat."
"Oh I do," said the Naib. "But you'll have to worry about that another time. I see my errand boy has returned."
Diamondeye nodded to Renata, and handed her three wrapped parcels before retreating to the walls of the courtyard along with the rest of the surviving Daggers. The first was a fedora, the second a black trench coat. She handed both of these to the unresisting Atheotes, who looked at her quizzically. It was only when she pulled out the antique tommy gun that his eyes began to gleam.
"I don't even care if you kill me," he breathed. "This is my DREAM."
"You're mafia," Renata said quietly, so no one else could hear. "Have at it." She'd retreated prudently behind a massive urn by the time Atheotes began to fire.
"HAHAHAHAHA," yelled Atheotes with glee. "I'm the mafia, fools! Die, townie scum!" The tommy gun chattered and roared, almost but not quite obscuring the screams of the Daggers as they fled the courtyard. Crimson gore splattered the stones and the walls. Some if it landed uncomfortably close to Renata; she pulled her gleaming boots a bit further into the shadow of the urn. At length, there was silence, except for the footsteps, approaching.
The tommy gun's barrel poked through the shrubbery behind her head. "I saved the last bullet for you," whispered Atheotes.
"That's only appropriate," said Renata.
Atheotes pulled the trigger. The gun exploded. Despite her carefully chosen cover, a few chunks of Atheotes landed on Renata's spotless boots. "Yuck," she said.
There wasn't enough left of Atheotes' heart to drive a stake into, but she severed his spinal cord without much difficulty.
The rest of the Daggers, most of whom had been severely bruised by the fake bullets and all of whom had incurred steep dry-cleaning bills from the fake blood that had filled them, were not amused.
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