Over the course of the 8th night, Arnor and Amok were chosen for death.
The next day's lynching resulted in the following result:
1 - Gwynedd (Alchoran)
1 - Zarf BeebleBrix (Gwynedd)
1 - Alchoran (Zarf BeebleBrix)
For the sake of the story, our 3 surviving players are renamed as their characters in the game:
Gwynedd - Guiseppe
Zarf - Vittore
Alchoran - SK
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Rain continued to pour from the dark storm clouds that had built up over Calabra. Although the residents were used to regular rain with the town being situated on the coast, this storm had been brewing for days. The vibrant colours of the stone houses and shops around the town square were gradually being overshadowed with a gloomy grey as the storm moved inwards and night slowly descended.
Vittore was stood under a black umbrella, shielding himself from the relentless downpour. He looked around and watched as the remaining townsfolk gathered their things and began leaving the square. Amok wiped a tear from his eye after watching his lover, Primo, get hanged moments earlier. He lifted his head and caught a glance at Vittore staring back at him and quickly shuffled away.
Keen to end the battle that had besieged his town over the past week, Vittore reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his revolver. He took aim at Amok and without thinking twice, pulled the trigger twice. The shots exploded in the Scientist's back and he fell forwards, making a splash as he landed in a large puddle that had formed.
"Vittore, drop the gun!" came a voice to his right. He glanced in the direction from which the voice came and saw him. It had been three months since he had last seen his younger brother in the warehouse on that eventful night.
Guiseppe was standing 10 metres away, arm outstretched and aiming a gun at his brother. His wavy brown hair had gone, replaced with short blond stubble. Vittore hardly recognised him. "I said drop it. It's over" he shouted, trying to control the anger in his voice. Three long months of anger and hate had boiled down to this moment.
"Mio fratello, my brother Guiseppe... or should I call you traitor?" Vittore responded. It was almost difficult to hear him over the constant pitter patter of rain. "I'm pretty sure I said I didn't want to see your face again and yet here you are. And with the Moretti brothers of all people. As if that whore you married wasn't dirty enough, you got together with her brothers. Suppose you were paying them for sex too? Well, at least I won't feel guilty anymore about doing this" he spat out as he swung his gun around to face Guiseppe.
"Shut your disgusting mouth. The Moretti brothers were like the brothers I never had. Much more than I can say for you. Just take a look at what you've done to this town Vitt. It's like a ghost town here. Remember that bakery over there? Remember the smell when we used to run in every morning to pick up fresh ciabattas for Ma? Remember playing in the fountain over there and me falling in? Well, you've wiped all those memories out. You mean nothing to me now. For three months I've been waiting for this moment. Let's end this now. Fair and square. Drop your gun now" Guiseppe demanded, moving his arm to the side and unexpectantly releasing his gun. "Do it Vitt. Just you and me, no guns".
Vittore watched as his brother's gun fell to the ground and did the same with his own revolver. As soon as he was disarmed he looked as Guiseppe started running towards him, fists clenched.
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Arnor could only stand and watch, partially hidden behind a car, as the two brothers exchanged their war on words and then oddly dropped their guns and started to fight each other. Not one brother seemed to have the upper hand as they thrashed in the rain, kicking and punching each other to a bloody pulp.
The police officer reached into his jacket to retrieve his own gun to stop the fight himself, but remembered he had lost it two nights ago. The same night he had realised his investigations had been tampered with and were no longer reliable.
He decided to make a quiet escape and be on the first boat out to Sicily the next morning. He crept backwards on his hands and knees, clothes soaked to the bone and being careful not to be seen. He approached the alleyway which led behind the front row of shops and got to his feet before running away.
There was no way he could have heard the Serial Killer, knife in hand, follow him amongst the crackle of thunder that erupted from the skies above.
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Vittore spluttered and kicked out as Guiseppe held his head down in the puddle next to the sidewalk. He scrambled for air but the grip on the back of his head was too strong. His body was covered in cuts and ached from the fight.
"This is for Francesca and Alexander you son of a bitch" Guiseppe screamed through gritted teeth as he sat astride his brother and pushed his head down with all of his might. An image of his wife, smiling and wind blowling softly through her long brown locks, kept pushing itself to the forefront of his mind and gave him an extra burst of energy.
Vittore struggled further and knew he was running out of time. He choked on the dirty water entering his lungs and reached out for something... anything that he could get his hands on. He felt along the edge of the sidewalk and gripped his hand on a semi loose stone. It was still wedged in place but after a couple of jerks, he managed to pry it free. He mustered all of his energy to raise it and connect with his attacker's head.
The grip on his own head was released as Guiseppe flew backwards onto the ground, blood seeping from the new wound in his head. Vittore span around and gulped in copious mouthfuls of precious air, wasting no time as he dived on his shocked brother.
The tables had turned and the older brother was now straddling the younger. He gripped the sidewalk stone in his hand and struck it upon Guiseppe's head again, this time causing his nose to break. A fresh burst of blood mixed with the heavy rain and splashed all over the place.
"I told you to never come back here. Why did you come back?! I told you never to come back!" Vittore sobbed, obviously distressed at what he was about to do. His mid length hair was soaked and was plastered to the sides of his face. "Why did you come back?!"
Guiseppe could do nothing. He watched as his brother raised the stone up again with both hands for one final blow. But it didn't come.
Vittore attempted to cough a couple of times as if choking on something invisible and dropped the stone. He gripped his neck suddenly and felt the end of a knife pertruding from where his adam's apple used to be. He choked again and reached behind his neck where he felt the handle of the knife. He looked into his brother's bloodied eyes one last time with a look of resigned regret. A tiny tear formed as he fell sideways onto the ground. Standing behind him was the Serial Killer, dressed entirely in black with a headmask over his head.
Guiseppe took this moment to scramble backwards as fast as he could. He splashed through the rain as he felt the Serial Killer close in on him from behind. The storm and constant torrential rain had made it difficult to see clearly but his eyes latched onto what he was looking for. His gun.
The Serial Killer ran after Guiseppe who appeared to have found something amongst the large puddles forming on the ground of the town square. He called out after him but the sound was muffled by another eruption of thunder. He got closer but was too late. Guiseppe span around and fired three shots into the Serial Killer, causing him to stop in his tracks and grip his body where the wounds entered.
The SK staggered forwards one more step and Guiseppe pulled the trigger again, flooring his potential attacker. As the SK fell, he screamed out one word. "Beppe........."
Guiseppe looked on in shock as his mind failed to register what he had just heard. Did he recognise that voice? He watched as the Serial Killer fell onto the ground and then saw the long thick brown hair he once knew and loved....
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- 3 months earlier
"Beppe... something's wrong... " Francesca stuttered as her husband looked down at the growing pool of blood between her legs.
"No Frankie, I'll get help. Don't you worry. I'll get help" Guiseppe stuttered as he grabbed the phone in his pocket and dialled the emergency services.
The wait in the Emergency room at the local hospital felt like time had stopped for Guiseppe. He paced backwards and forwards for what seemed like an eternity and asked the nurse sitting at reception for updates so frequently that she had begun to ignore him.
Inside the operating theatre, Francesca had just left surgery. The clothes she was wearing were stained a dark maroon colour from the blood that she had lost. She sobbed and cried uncontrollably when told that she had lost her baby, thrashing her arms out at the doctor who told her.
But at least she was still alive, they kept saying to her. She couldn't understand it.
"My poor Alexander. My poor Alexander!!" was all she managed to say to her doctor. "Beppe's going to hate me!" she cried out. No amount of reassurance seemed to calm her down. "My poor Alexander!"
Marco Moretti ran a finger down his sister's face. "Don't worry, big sis. We'll make sure everything will be ok. We've got your back. Now if you're strong enough, we have to get you out of here. His brother will surely be out to kill you if he knew you were still alive. We can't even tell Beppe for your safety." He gripped onto her arms to help her out of bed, but she lashed out at her brother.
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she screamed with a look of pain, frustration and depression in her eyes. She gripped both sides of her head with her hands. "My head is not right, I keep seeing Alexander! Get out Marco! I need you to GET OUT!!"
Marco was shocked at this sudden outburst from his older sister and retreated. On his way out, he threw the black catsuit he picked up as a change of clothes onto her bed. "You may need this."
Francesca ignored him and continued to sob into her hands, muttering to herself.
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- Present day
Guiseppe scrambled forwards to his attacker he had just shot. He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it. As he got closer, it was more and more obvious that the serial killer was a woman. Dressed from head to toe in black, it was unmistakably a woman.
He composed himself as he sat down on the soaked ground and lifted up the serial killer's head to remove the mask.
Francesca's lifeless eyes stared back up at him and Guiseppe cried out in overwhelming grief. He could not understand what had just happened or why and how he was cradling his wife in his arms once again but he knew he couldn't physically or emotionally deal with losing her again.
The storm continued its merciless assault on the town but the gloom seemed fitting to the situation. Picking up his gun from his side, Guiseppe glanced down at his older brother and then at his wife and knew what he had to do. He placed the barrel in his mouth and stopped to collect his thoughts and control his sobbing. He then closed his eyes and thought of his unborn son smiling and laughing happily whilst playing with his mother.
He pulled the trigger.
THE END
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