Everything big starts with something little, of small importance, of ultimate insignificance. This story starts, or, at least for our purposes, with a man walking into a room at a poor time of day. Dapperdan sat down in his creaky chair and laid his head on his desk. It was mid-day outside. The sun shined through the window. But to Dapperdan it was midnight. Long-coming tears streamed out of his eyes and over his cheeks, forming little puddles that were of epic proportions. He wanted to sleep. But he didn't want to move. Everywhere he went in his house reminded him of how miserable his existence was. This desk was the only thing he had left to his name. He was a well-respected member of the community, but no one had been inside his vacant hell of a house for more than a week, and they did not realize the torment that he was internalizing. At the point where he was choking on his tears, he finally lifted his head up from the desk that was clearly not a worthy pillow. He saw empty cardboard boxes that spelled "ELIGARF" on them and thought of his heart. He could hear it beating consistently slow in his chest within his dead silent room. He remembered all the important things that those boxes used to contain. Back at the time when he moved in to this hole in the wall on the side of the road by a ditch and a well. Everything was a joke to him now.

He screamed aloud, "WHY DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME?", and again "WHY DID SHE DO THIS TO ME?" He began to suffocate with the heavy convulsions in his tears, as he had little time to breathe between his yelps. Then he heard the front door open slowly. He heard her keys jingle the way they always did. His heart was restored with hope and love for a long moment. He simply waited for the confirmation of her beautiful face to let him know that he hadn't gone crazy. He could hear the footsteps approaching his room. He wondered why she knew which room he was in ... he had moved the desk from where she had last seen it...

Dapperdan lived in the North Eastern part of Europe for approximately twelve years before his inevitable death. Before he took residence here, he lived on the other side of the world. It was in a little nook in Alaska. Completely removed from typical society. The scenery there is reminscent of Mary Shelley's descriptions of nature in the book Frankenstein. The natural beauty is remarkable. The lake glistening from a sun penetrating through a lightly clouded blue sky, with towering white-capped mountains scattering the background. There really shouldn't be people tucked into the forests there. But there are.

Mini Moose 2707 developed a residence there to perform his experiments about eighteen years ago. You might say he was some type of demented scientist. Some people would use the word "brilliant" or "genius" when speaking of him, but those people are fooling themselves. Mini Moose 2707 was a brutally sadistic man. He went to incredible lengths to perform his experiments and achieve his goals. He recruited many people to his cause, and eventually, a community was developed. Mini Moose 2707 was a terribly powerful speaker, and he could lead the people at his whims with little difficulty. Everytime someone went missing, it was merely a sign that they were done with their testing and had flown out of town. From an airport that didn't exist. No one could consider the idea that an experimental accident of fatal consequences had occured. Mini Moose 2707 was a man that did well to appear respectable and innocent.

For all his faults, however, Mini Moose 2707 was an exceptional scientist that made many important developments. The community that formed became an alternate reality that was not only tragic, but unique and amazing in its own ways. Such a place cannot truly be comprehended by the average person. I would best call this corner of the earth's creation an unadulterated assault on reality. It really only had one major problem over the course of its entire existence: the escape of Dapperdan. The one man who actually made a plane flight out of town. The only "patient" that Mini Moose 2707 ever bonded with. Dapperdan did a good job of pretending to return the connection. It led to his metaphorical leash being loosened just enough that he could slip out and break free.

It's a hero's tale, truly, but it does not belong in this muck and muddy portrait that I must continue to paint. Details of these two men's reasoning for everything they did and the mental torment that they went through can be left aside. Those details are not nearly dark enough. What matters is the fact that I use "was" when I refer to both Dapperdan and Mini Moose 2707.

Mini Moose 2707 never stopped the search for Dapperdan ever since his escape. The one person he cared about in life was out there somewhere and he had hope with that. He did not lose that hope, nor find Dapperdan until after his murder. With this death, it was easy to find his name in the obituarities. Obituaries that Dapperdan had always intended Mini Moose 2707 to find. This prompted him to leave on a non-work related issue for the first time since he had arrived all those years ago. He was to attend Dapperdan's funeral. Fortunately or Unfortunately, Mini Moose 2707 never reached his destination. His plane crashed over the Atlantic Ocean and he will never be seen again.

And what happened to the wasted village of Mini Moose 2707's creation since his death? This is the more gruesome part of the story. Without a leader, the fantastical and sadistic townspeople grew more and more anxious. They became like members of a cult without a purpose. And then a purpose found them. It was becoming increasingly clear that the deaths of Dapperdan and Mini Moose 2707 were not coincidences. It was all part of an elaborate plan. The likeness of Mafia seeped their way into the town and they had a cruel game to play. It started last night. With the terrible deaths of Corbo and Devilesk. Their rotting bodies lie in the middle of their civilization like beacons calling for something to be done. Something will be done... and that something is revenge.

Omginbd stared out the pane glass window from his humble abode with unwavering attention. It rained heavily outside, and he stared through the drops as they rolled slowly down the window's glass. The blurry image that omginbd could see was of the three bodies that had so far fallen victim to the mafia's cruel game. Their bodies rotted and eroded under the pouring and pattering rain. Omginbd wondered why nothing had been done with the bodies. He wondered why they had not been properly buried. He asked himself aloud, "Is everyone in this godforsaken place so cold and corrupt?" He paused. "Now I'm talking to myself. Look what this world has done to me!"

He turned away from the heartless portrait that his window was hanging on his wall for a moment in an attempt to regain his senses. He felt like tonight was last night to live, yet all he was doing was sitting here, waiting. Staring at dead bodies through rainy eyes. He rationalized to himself aloud again, gradually speaking quieter and faster alike, "Your home is secure. That's why you're just staying put. There's nothing wrong with what you're doing. You'll be alright if you stay." He could hardly convince himself with the argument. He turned back to the window and was taken aback by what he saw. The window had been fogged, and the letters "S E Y" were written into it. As he watched them begin to entirely fade away, he took a moment to wonder what it meant. Then he realized that it was an answer to his question. He was now certain that he was a target tonight. A dead man that was cheating life with every second.

He stared deeper into the window again, looking to the outside, where he could make out a man standing by the three abandoned bodies. He ran to his door on the other side of the house and swung it open violently, unleashing himself onto the rainy night, determined to do something. And momentarily, omginbd was subdued by a bullet straight to the head of the man waiting for him.

Phobos stood over the three bodies in the middle of the broken society, as if on an active fault line. He stood over the tattered and muddled bodies without a clue as to what he wanted to do. He gazed over the blood and blocked his sense of olfaction to reduce the stench. He leaned over closer and searched for a sense of consistency in the deaths -- a common thread. Waiting for a eureka moment to find him. But it wasn't coming, and it was only getting later. He stepped over the bodies and began his slow walk home. It was then that a voice echoed from behind him, "Like what I've done with the place?" Phobos did not bother to turn around. He simply fell backwards and added himself to the heap of death. Subsequently taking the rapid fire shots that made the thing official.

Ever since the first murders had taken place, HailFire diligently worked on transforming his home into a miniature fortress. The windows are boarded up and painted shut. The doors are locked and barricaded. He even spreads fast drying cement on the floor to prevent any sort of tunnel or underground entry. HailFire is a smart man and spares no expense in preparing to survive this night. Nobody gets in. Nobody gets out. Yes. North, south, east, west, and down are all covered. However, there is one flaw in his security system that he has overlooked. The one the mafia would be using to strike him down tonight.

HailFire sleeps comfortably, enjoying the rain. Little does he know that the mafia are preparing to exploit his defenses. He cannot exactly see what comes through his roof, but can definitely hear it. It plunges into his house, straight through the roof, the floor, and is stopped by the cement and foundation of his home. HailFire contemplates the moonlight and the rain now entering his room for a split second, and then tries to make a run for it. As he leaves his room, he hears a man running up the stairs from his basement. HailFire is desperately trying to remove the barricade from his front door as the man enters the room. The door is finally clear. As HailFire undoes the chain on his door and inserts the key for his deadbolt lock, the man pulls the trigger. The door is painted with the blood of HailFire as he is shot in the back.

Echo is walking down the street and sees a man standing on the corner. Which, of course, is otherwise ordinary. The man is wearing a suit and tie. Which, too, is otherwise uninteresting. Echo, however, notices something about him and it catches his eye. It is as if he had seen this particular gentleman before. Echo has, indeed, seen this gentlemen before. Of course, this still seems quite mundane. However, the extraordinary thing about this was that for Echo, it shouldn't be possible that he is able to see this particular man. Echo walks closer to get a better look. The man looks in Echo's direction briefly, but does not move. Echo needs to know if this man is indeed who he thinks he is. The man is indifferent to EcHo's approach and puts his hands in his pockets. At point blank range, Echo looks at the man's face to confirm his suspicions. The man turns and faces Echo. Very similar. But not quite there. The man pulls a gun out of his jacket and shoots Echo in the head and walks away.

"I am not yet strong, but you... you shall make me strong." FatalException in his mind is still trying to unravel the chain of events that got him to be here as the mafia said those words, looking into his eyes. He strains against the rope and duct tape binding him to the chair, but cannot break his bonds. "Let us begin," smiles his captor. His captors lays his hands on FatalException's shoulders. FatalException screams in agony as his life is drained out of him. The mafia laughs and continues until FatalException is on the edge of unconsciousness. His head hangs low in the chair as he struggles to breathe.

The mafia man then does something unexpected. He releases FatalException's bonds. "You are free to go... if you can." The mafia laughs quietly to himself. FatalException looks at his arms. No more restraints. He looks at his free hands. He notices that they are bleeding for some reason. He rose from the chair. Slowly. It was difficult. Ordinarily, FatalException could run several miles and barely break a sweat. But for some reason, tonight was different. It took a monumental effort merely to stand. Just to breathe. The mafia man is delighted as FatalException falls over and his head hits the ground. "What have you done to me?" asks FatalException in a weak and dying voice. "Something like this" grins the mafia as he lays hands upon FatalException once more and takes his life from him.

As the fates of both good men and bad men carried out their courses in a dark and twisted night, WoAHorde slept. He did not toss. He did not turn. He silently waited for his shining moment. Then it was interrupted. He heard a crash from his basement and jolted up from his cozy bed. He could hear someone sprinting up the stairs. He opened up his window, the rain now splashing in, and looked down, considering the prospects of making the two and half story jump. Then he heard the cellar door open accompanied by the smashing of glass. He was tempted to go and see what had happened, but he knew that was not the right decision. He began to hear a hideous cackle coming closer to him and forced himself to make the leap to the earth below. WoAHorde slowly gathered himself back to his feet, and began to limp away; making his best attempt to jog. A thud of similar sound to his own followed shortly thereafter, but there was no scream in pain like he had given. The footsteps then began to follow as well, their sound coming closer and closer, until WoAHorde was finally tackled from behind.

A scuffle began to ensue until WoAHorde was cut over the cheek by a piece of glass that his reaper had carried along with him. WoAHorde quickly changed his body language from resistant to pleading, as the sharp glass was slowly placed underneath his neck. The unshameful killer then came in closer and licked the blood from WoAHorde's wound. He took some time to pant and then recited, as if it were a quote of Shakespeare, "Delectable". Swiftly, the throat of WoAHorde was slashed, and the night had reached its end.

The sun rises and shines upon the nine bodies that now sit in the middle of the town. The beacon of blood continues to grow.
The town gathers into the town hall. Just as they enter, the following message is broadcast: Dont trust NerdyTeddy or evildesk. Its another conspiracy and if you listen to them your going to regret it.