An artist's depiction of an Extended Unit Death
Night 1He sat calmly in his chair. It was a normal night, like any other night. People will die tonight, like any other night. He knows this. He planned this. He ordered this.
"Well, isn't this an interesting site?"
"What do you mean?"
"Not too many people are out here at this time of day."
"I could say the same for you," Jack replied. He was standing at the corner of Mafi and Main. Across the street was another man, who seemed pleasantly surprised, despite trying to hide a smile.
"I was just on my way to visit you."
Jack took a small step back.
This isn't good. This man... he couldn't be... "I didn't expect to run into you here; shouldn't you be at the bar?"
"Well, actua-" The man paused, processing what Jack had just said. "How did-"
Jack immediately bolted, taking advantage of the opportunity he created.
"Get back here!" The man, now furious, quickly pursued him.
A barroom brawl emerged from a pub not too far from Main. There were five men in the room including the bartender, though only two were actually fighting. One man was passed out, drunk. Another man watched eagerly, thoroughly enjoying the conflict. The bartender was too fearful to intervene.
It was a rather one-sided fight: Azrael.Wrath was effortlessly launching nearby tables and chairs at his opponent, who was already heavily battered. "Get up!" Azrael.Wrath shouted, having exhausted the nearby furniture.
The beaten man used the wall as support to stand, as most of his energy was already pummeled out of him. "Damn, you're pretty strong."
Azrael.Wrath smiled. "Wish I could say the same for you." He moved his hands to grab one end of the bar counter, which was attached to the floor.
"Please, stop this," requested the bartender. "If you want to fight, take it outside!"
Azrael.Wrath had no intention of listening, and the bartender had no intention of directly opposing him. With one solid motion, Azrael.Wrath tore the base of the counter into the air (along with a portion of the floor), leaving a large, gaping hole in the center of the room. He approached the beaten man with the piece of furniture held above his head.
The beaten man reached into his pocket. "Hell, I didn't think I'd need to draw this," he remarked as he pulled out a small handgun. Before Azrael.Wrath could smash the counter onto the man, he placed a full clip of bullets into various parts of
Azrael.Wrath's person.
His hands worked quickly. He was in no rush, but he just had to get something productive done before going to sleep. The soft ticking of the hand clock above his head was somewhat of a comfort, as it consistently broke the otherwise silent night. He blinked a few times, seeing spots; an earlier experiment nearly blinded him. Despite this, he kept his eyes wide open and focused on his work.
"End of the line, Jack."
Jack was cornered in an alley between two abandoned buildings. "Yeah, looks that way, doesn't it?"
The man laughed. "It seems a tad stupid to run into a dead-end, even for you."
"It appears that way, doesn't it?"
"What the hell do you mean by that?!" The man shouted. "Why do you keep saying that?!" He raised a gun and pointed it straight at Jack's head. "... Never mind. I would like you to answer one thing for me, though."
"No."
"What?"
"I said no."
"Don't you value your life?"
"Of course I do," Jack replied, "but even if I answer your question, it won't save me. So go ahead and shoot." He momentarily glanced at the roof of one of the buildings. "There's no witnesses here to see you do it."
The man sighed. "Goodbye,
Jack."
Day 1 begins. Vote for who you would like to see hanged (Deadline: Saturday 22:00 EDT).