Live Action Mafia

A game of sneakiness and paranoia
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 Post subject: Mafia noir
PostPosted: Sun Aug 19, 2012 12:48 pm 
This was the crummy part of town where the streets swarm with rats and the rats swarm with fleas and the fleas pay protection money to the Don. As I stepped into my detective office, I felt the thick haze of danger -- or maybe it was smoke. I lifted a cigarette to my mouth only to find one already there.

The desk across from mine stood empty, a stark reminder that my partner wasn’t coming back. He left one morning to spy on a mafia deal, and his body was found with more holes than a donut shop. Fourth partner I’d lost this way, plus two wives, three brothers, and my pet cat Snuggles. It doesn’t get any easier. But that’s what happens to those who cross the Don in this part of town.

(Everything I write is purely for shtick and has no bearing on game. )


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sun Aug 19, 2012 3:12 pm 
"I lifted a cigarette to my mouth only to find one already there."

This sentence can be very confusing. The first time I read it I thought you'd found a mouth already there, and that you'd accidentally stuck your cigarette into a corpse. D=


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 1:52 pm 
Outside the grime-soaked windows, neon lights flashed HOTEL -- VACANCY -- HOTEL -- VACANCY, casting stark shadows through the narrow blinds. Another painful reminder of the now-vacant desk where my partner used to sit. Of the vacant life I’d been living. It was weeks since I had a case. Where were the grisly killings, the sultry seductresses? I took a flask of whiskey from my desk and downed a shot. Something rough scratched my throat, and I coughed and sputtered. Damn cigarette!


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 9:51 pm 
As I reached for my second flask of whiskey, I saw a shadow slink towards me. A sensuous, seductive, sexy shadow. The shadow came closer, revealing more curves than an algebra textbook. As it reached my desk, the woman-shaped shape coalesced into a woman. Her low-cut red dress left little to hide of her astonishing bustline, which was reassuring as it could have easily concealed a machine gun. Who was she, I wondered, and where was that saxophone music coming from?

“You’re the only one who can help me, Pike!” she cried, her chest heaving.

“How did you get into my office, dollface, and how do you know my name?” I demanded, slowly reaching for my revolver.

“Your door was open, honey,” she replied. “And your name is on it. Pike Cross, private detective.” I took my hand off my gun and back onto my whisky flask. “Besides, sunshine,” she continued, “everyone knows you’re the man to go to if there’s any trouble. And, boy is there trouble.”

“And who might you be, sweetums?”, I growled, taking another swig of whisky.

“Krue’s the name, sugar,” she said, twirling her raven tresses. “My husband Dalton has been murdered and now I fear for my life! He’s been helping the Mafia for years though he didn’t know it. But he was a nice guy, really!”

Like all the other nice guys in the cruel city, I mused, taking another sip of whiskey. One little misstep and you’ve fallen into the sewers of the criminal underworld riding a train of despair straight into the puppeteering hands of the Don. Fate can be as twisted as my metaphors. Many years ago, I too had become consumed by the ichor of grotesque reality that blackens every man’s heart…

“You do realize I can’t hear your internal monologue, lollipop?”, Krue interrupted. I realized I’d been absentmindedly pouring whiskey onto my lap and decided to change the topic.

“I need to see the murder site while it’s fresh. It’s the only way we can figure out who did this to your precious Dalton. Why don’t you take me there, babycakes?” She nodded. I holstered my revolver, put on my trenchcoat and fedora, and led the dame out the door.


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 10:35 pm 
We arrived at the location Krue told me, the corner of Mass Ave and Landsdown. Murder was in the air, and on the ground too I noted upon seeing a body outlined in chalk on the sidewalk.

I approached the line of officers and flashed my private eye badge. “You must be Pike. I’m officer Yedidia,” said a uniformed man, leading me through the cordon. “I got reports of gunfire and I found him this way at 7pm. A witness identified him as Dalton Allan, and I called his wife here at once.”

Krue sobbed into a handkerchief and faced sharply away as we came to the body. It was a gruesome sight. Blood was oozing out of a large uneven gunshot wound in his neck, leaving a dark black puddle. His back was covered in knife wounds. Looks like the mob gave Dalton the usual parting gift for those who get got cold feet.

As I looked closer, I noticed a pattern in the knife wounds: they formed words, “DALTON LOSES”. I couldn’t make anything of it, and neither could Officer Yedidia when I pointed it out. I’d have to find out what company Dalton kept and ask them what it might mean.

Krue was staring into the sky, her eyes full of grief and vengeance. And seduction, I noted. I’d best leave her alone. I tipped my fedora over my eyes and walked away into the grays and darker grays of the sunset.


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Aug 23, 2012 4:20 pm 
The evening fog was rolling in, blanketing the street in a haze that represented the haze of my mind. Figments of Dalton’s bleeding body danced through my dead, melding with shadows until I couldn’t tell real from reverie. The hot summer was weighing down on me, which must be a metaphor too, I realized, as actual hot air rises.

As I turned onto the alleyway of an alleyway where my office stands, I felt breathing behind me. I was being followed. The heat-sweatdrops on my forehead turned into danger-sweatdrops, and my heart beat faster than a hummingbird shooting a semi-automatic.
A gruff voice spoke, “We know you’re packing heat, so don’t move a muscle!”
Another voice added, “Yeah, ‘cuz we’s the muscle around here.”
I turned around slowly to see two burly men pointing tommy guns at me while smoking cigars. They were wearing brown suits with matching brown ties and had their greasy hair slicked back.
One learned towards me and whispered, “Boss says you’ve been sticking your nose in our business. And Don Grazianni likes to keep his business very private. Like that Dalton fella’s tragic accident falling through the floor to a butcher shop. While, uh, accidentally shooting himself.”
The other leaned in and continued, “We ain’t want no trouble, ya hear? If you do good to the Graziannis, the Graziannis will be the best friends you’ll ever have. And tell your precious sugartits to stay out too. Capeesh?”
Before I could reply, a Lincoln coupe screeched by, and the men got in and whizzed off. I made a mental note to stay clear of apartments right above a butcher shop.


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Aug 23, 2012 5:36 pm 
“Another whiskey,” I shouted to the bartender, who only glared back in return. “And one for Miss Krue as well.”

We were in the Dirty Rat, the seediest bar in the neighborhood. It’s dirty all right, but there’s not a rat foolhardy enough to set paw into this place. Here, the knives are not for steak, but for those who look at someone the wrong way. And this was where Krue had taken me to “tell me a story”.

“It was late last night after that useless lout Officer Yedidia drove me home. Funny how men do me favors like that,” Krue said, tilting my chin up with her hand so that my gaze was towards her face.

“The police have no idea who did it of course. But my best friend Wendy was waiting at my door, a local, erm, lady of the streets. She said she was with a client when she saw a young miss shoot and stab my beloved Dalton, right there in the middle of the street. A young schoolmistress by the name of Molly. Crazy girl, God-knows why she did it, but I knew there was gonna be hell to pay.”

Krue’s face filled with icy rage as she grabbed a knife off the table whose glint reflected through the dim gaslight in the smoke-filled room. I felt the burn of the glares of the bartender and the all other patrons until Krue put down the knife, adjusted her silk red scarf, and calmly resumed.

“Now Wendy’s knows how to make a man scream, and she also knows how to make a man scream. Or a woman in this case. So we paid a little visit to Molly apartment. We climbed through her bedroom window where she was sleeping looking so sweet and innocent. I shook her awake and told her she’d pay for killing my husband. She only got out a few words about how she was innocent until --” and Krue gestured yanking on her scarf with both hands.

“If you had a witness, dollface, why didn’t you go to the police.”

“Aren’t you a naive cookie,” Krue patted me on the head. “The fuzz are all in the mafia’s pocket. We gotta get mobs against the mob.”

I took her hands into mine and said, “I can’t protect you. You’ve gotten too deep into this whole business. You need to leave town--”

Then, a loud bang rang out and Krue was unusually horizontal. I knelt down to her to ask if she was all right, but she didn’t reply, which I found extremely rude until I realized she was dead. Her once-heaving bosom was heaving no more.

Then, I felt a thud and all went black.


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Fri Aug 24, 2012 8:33 am 
I woke up to smell of rust and the creak of metal. Light and shadow danced in a blinding column around me. I looked up to see a sunbeam passing through a huge spinning metal fan, the only light in this vast room. A warehouse, I realized. My head was spinning; whoever brought me here must have drugged me. No, wait, that was just the whisky.

Then I heard the click of heels, and a silhouette of a woman was towering over me, legs astride and hands on her hips.

“I’m Lizrita," spoke the silhouette. "Pleasure to meet you, Pike.” In spite of the bitter sarcasm in her voice, I thought it polite to extend my hand but found it tied firmly behind my back.

“I'm sorry about your ladyfriend, but she had it coming,” said the voice without a trace of apology. “Blabbing to the entire Dirty Rat! She should have quit while ahead. Krue got it right that Molly shot her poor, loving husband -- I just added the finishing touches.” She whipped out a knife and stabbed it into a wooden plank on the wall behind me. Then a second knife and a third one. I thought to ask where she concealed them all but decided not to interrupt her exposition.

The voice continued, dripping with honey and acid. “I’d been blackmailing Dalton for years about his secret affair with Molly. He was about to crack and tell Krue. It ripped Molly apart, but what choice did she have?”

“So this is how Don Grazianni gave Dalton his due?” I inquired.

The woman laughed, a cold booming laugh that echoed through the chamber. Maybe that’s why she chose a warehouse.

“Don Grazianni?” she sneered. “That cat-stroking, chess-playing geezer? You I think I did for him?” I started to answer but then realized the question was rhetorical.

“No. It was pure passion.” Lizrita gazed off into the column of light, and from this angle I could see a glimmer of tenderness in her cheeks. “I used to be a sweet, naïve girl like Molly. Dalton promised me the moon and stars and I fell for every word. His charisma could convince anyone of anything. He was my life and I thought I was his. But he had more girls than I have knives, and once he grew bored of me, he said a word to his mafia pals and I found myself on the wrong side of a gun barrel.” She gestured blowing smoke off her finger.

“But I survived. The doctors say I lost two quarts of blood, but now only vengeance flowed through my veins. I found out that the Casanova had a wife the whole time. I blackmailed him for years, threatening to reveal him to Krue and to every one of his special ladies as the two-faced pig he is. His money let me live like the princess I am, and he never knew it was me!”

“And our little arrangement would still be going if Dalton hadn’t decided to come clean. No, not a pang of conscience,” Lizrita smirked. “He must’ve realized he loved his money more than he loves his women. But thank Lucifer that Molly gave that philanderer what he deserved. Well, plus a few ... embellishments ... from yours truly. And now it’s done.” She paused as if trying to say what comes next but no words would come out.

I broke the silence, “So what will you do now? The police are on your tail.”

She laughed once again and I could feel the temperature drop. “On my tail? Those fools are chasing their own tails. They arrested the pastor’s wife Lydia who’s just as involved with the case as their brains are. Now they’ve locked up some dame named Rifrim for interrogation. She’s not talking, so they’re gonna be a while. Now you see why the mafia doesn't waste money bribing cops?”

“What about Officer Yedidia?”

“Him? He was the only one with a head on his shoulders, a problem I easily remedied.”

I tried to sound gruff and dramatic but wound up just coughing the words. “So you killed Krue and Officer Yedidia just because they got caught up in your twisted revenge scheme?”

I could see a shadow of a smirk in Lizrita’s face. “All that mattered was that Dalton got what was coming. The others were just obstacles.” I opened my mouth to object but she leaned in closer and hissed, “You understand, Pike Cross, don’t pretend. Only those of us who are truly alone understand. Men only become private detectives for one reason. If you could bring down Don Grazianni, would anything else matter? Would anyone else matter?”

I changed to a less uncomfortable topic. “So now you’re gonna kill me too?”

Once more she laughed, a bitter cackle that made me wish she had just said “yes” instead. She put her hands on my cheeks and whispered into my ear, “That would be too easy, Pike Cross, my dear. No. You’ll live haunted by the deaths of Krue and Officer Yedidia whom you failed to protect just like you failed your old partner and your wife and your cat. We’re kindred souls, you and I. You know the pain of losing everyone close to you. Who else could ever understand me?”

Her hands still on my cheeks, she moved her face towards mine until our lips were nearly touching. Then suddenly she drew back, and a lead pipe in her hand swung towards my head and everything went black once more.


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