Thread:Rocketlauncher22/@comment-29711200-20160922031821/@comment-26444418-20161202021156

Tonight, was crucial.

The Escort was murdered, and the Consort lynched.

The Investigator’s report became true.

WHIRRRRRRR

“Come on… COME ON!”

He kicked the wheel desperately, and finally, with a loud belch, the engine chugged into life.

“YESSS!”

For tonight he had a plan. He must lead the mafia astray. He will make them turn on themselves in a last ditch attempt to exact revenge.

And to complete that, he must use a bait.

He was a quiet girl with perhaps more cunning than meets the eye.

He didn’t realise something was wrong. The Godfather has order the Mafioso to attack the Transporter, who was revealed the previous day. She was to silence the Lookout, as they knew they would be watching, thanks to the Consigliere.

Package delivered, he set home, crashing on her bed and falling asleep in an instant.

He had an odd dream. One that involved chariots. Except instead of horses, there were engines.

Clllaaannnkkk

She frowned and turned over in her drowsy sleep.

Clllaaannnkkk

“Shut up,” she mumbled subconsciously.

Creak

Was that the door opening?

Was that the Serial Killer?

She bolted upright, fumbling for her gun she always kept by her bedtable.

It wasn’t there.

And neither was her table.

She was in an entirely unknown house.

And yet…

Footsteps.

Her eyes darted around, and she saw something which made her heart stop.

Gears. Engines. Screws.

Only an inventor would house one of these.

The gunshot came all too quickly.