The night, begun. The fire, dead. A lynch, chosen.
The
CrownofFire backed away into the sand and the pitch-black sea beyond, fielded by the two people that, a day ago, had been his companions throughout the ordeal. Today, they had been his enemies. Now, they were to be his executioners.
The Cosca had never been particularly nice to any of them. They were broken shells, little but weapons, and when they got trapped on this island and the spark was set off, they exploded like gasoline. They were amnesiacs, but it didn't matter. They would always have been murderers, hitmen for the mafia. Nothing could change that, not even hypnosis, not a decade or even a lifetime of gardening or meditation or a normal life.
The Crown, thinking this over, decided that did want a better life now, away from his past and his ghosts. But that wasn't possible, this far from civilisation, on a dead island with two other psychotics turning against him. And he'd get found out, anyhow. The family would discover him somehow, try to drag him back or put a bullet in his head, or the police would try to do so first. Or he'd bring himself in, somehow. Maybe he'd get talked down to and he'd reply with a punch, or a fistfight would turn into a knifing. Maybe he'd just plain go out and kill someone because of the urge.
He tried to settle things here, and he'd have tried his best to live over there. But he was still a murderer and he murdered the other six, and he'd murder again.
Sometimes your best wasn't good enough.
And these other two. Once he was gone, they'd turn on each other. Maybe they'd both die in the fight or one would emerge victorious - for what? They were stuck on this island anyway with no way out, and Breadbocks might not have been an agent after all. For all they knew he was carrying junk and toys, and they were just gullible. Then the survivor would starve to death or go insane.
A fitting end, then.
"Okay, fine. Kill me, the both of you; just do so quickly."
The pair nodded, and turned toward each other.
"Shall I, or will you?" said
Webadict.
"Let me."
Orangebottle stepped forward, brandishing his pointed stick. He held the Crown by the shoulder and thrust it into his stomach, then turned it and lifted it into his chest. As it punctured his heart, his skin turned pale and his pupils dilated. Leaning in close, Orangebottle whispered something about his mother into his ear, and his face turned into a grimace, a half-frown whilst looking into the sky, and fell over. The stick was removed and blood pulsed into the beach, turning the sand brown. The CrownofFire lay in the wet mud and saw the basket, toppled on the floor, and the child, staring and frowning.
"Well, Webby, he's dead. Now let's search the body and find that radio."
"No need."
Webadict bent down and grabbed the stick.
"Eh, what do ya mean we don't need to search the body, Web?"
"Because I say so,
scum."
Webadict turned around, stick in full swing, shoving it straight into Orangebottle's eye and through the eye socket. As the foreign mass wreaked havoc in his brain his mind's eye drifted into the past.
The criminology class, at the party. He looked and walked around, surrounded by his classmates, patting him in the back and congratulating him on a job well done. But Webadict, he wasn't there. No, of course he wasn't.
And, as the world brightened around him and his grip started to fade, he saw his parents beside him, smiling. He reached out toward them, longing for their touch once more, to feel love again. But they drifted away as he did so, and calling out, he tried to rise up but could not muster the will. They drifted out of sight, and he died.
Webadict looked on with a mixture of pity and disdain as the dying man lay next to his friend, arm lifted and whimpering for his parents. He walked away and sat down on the cold stone next to the empty camp, and took out the radio.
"Webadict to HQ. Webadict to HQ. Requesting premature pickup."
"HQ to Webadict. Amnesiacs secured?"
"Mission is a failure. Requesting pickup."
"Roger that. Pickup by heli, ETA 5 hours."
"Roger."
* * *
EPILOGUE
* * *
The amnesiacs had no family, so all that was left was Breadbocks.
Webadict, washed and provided with a change of clothes, rang on the bell. It was nice up here, though slightly chilly, and he liked the neat rows of houses. It was all shades of grey to him now; he found nothing interesting anymore.
But it was quiet, uneventful, and there were few people around. Maybe he’ll just get transferred here, and while away the days like them just drinking cola and taking down dumb spammers. After that, he might just retire, begin forgetting, and live blissfully remembering little of the past and expecting little of the future.
The door was opened and was greeted by a young lady, bright and curious. "Men hej, är du inte Anders vän? Kom in!"
He walked in, was shown the sofa and sat. Some biscuits and juice was brought out.
"Kommer min Anders - Brödabocken, var det - tillbaka snart? Han sa att han skulle komma hit inom veckan."
The envelope was placed on the table, and she began opening, and reading it, eyes widening for every line she covered.
"I'm sorry, but your husband isn't coming back. He… He was a hero, and will be remembered by us all. He died bravely."
She sobbed on his shoulder, and looking out of the window, he almost saw them.
Author
Topic: Beginners' Mafia XXII [0/6, 1/3], POSTGAME: Mafia Won! (Read 71926 times)