Rogue Squadron Mafia Game Thread

Time is up.

Lynch Count
2 - Skippos (AVA, Mousey)

No majority has been reached. A no lynch has been enforced.

 

Lying prone on the ferrocrete, with his left cheek pressed against the cool floor and sparks from burning crates stinging his right cheek, everything seemed to collapse in on him at once. Ooryl knew that he should have been in an X-wing if he was going to be fighting Imperials. First Corran and now himself, the Gand was in complete disbelief that the Imperial agent they had been warned about could find another needle in a haystack. Having a firefight with Imperial stormtroopers was still one of the best ways Ooryl knew of committing suicide, and he was afraid he was going to prove it in the next three or four minutes. Coming up into a crouch, Ooryl looked around and his heart sank. As with several previous floors, this one was an open square space centered on a lift and stairwell core. The floor-to-ceiling windows provided a lovely view of the shadowed levels of Coruscant-a view he found decidedly claustrophobic.

Especially with an Imperial Troop Transport gravtruck floating up to his level. An armored side panel snapped down on the truck's boxy cargo pod. A stormtrooper framed himself in the opening and tossed something at the window. It stuck for a second, appearing to be a black amoebic blob, then it exploded, spraying transparisteel fragments into the room.

Though he had no intention of making himself a target when trapped between two stormtrooper squads, he wondered if it was time for action. Staying down was tantamount to surrendering, which would make sense except that the stormtroopers had never given any sign of being interested in taking prisoners. Looking to his left at the stormtroopers picking their way along the panel and entering through the broken window, the Gand didn't get the impression they were more inclined to shows of compassion than the other stormtroopers they'd fought so far.

Then something odd happened. The gravtruck tipped up at the front, spilling two stormtroopers from the walkway and tossing those in the back from their feet. A half second later the thing that had made the driver shy hit the front end of the gravtruck and exploded. The concussion of the blast shattered more windows and obliterated the gravtruck's cab. Beyond the floppy-limbed tumbling of broken stormtroopers, Ooryl saw the gravtruck begin to break apart and slip from sight.

A sleek snubfighter shot up past their level, then came back around and flew directly toward the building. Though not as elegant as the next generation of starfighters, the black with gold trim Z-95 Headhunter came as a welcome sight to the Gand. Its blasters started blazing from each wingtip and sliced fire through the building's central core. Sparks shot from ruptured electrical conduits and water gushed from shattered mains. Walls evaporated beneath the assault, and of the storm-troopers and Imperial agent who had been following him, Ooryl could see no trace.

PMs incoming.

It is now day five.

 

All PMs sent. If there's no replacement for weldone he'll die at the end of the day phase. He can still be lynched or anything during this day phase, even before a replacement puts their hand up, because at this stage I'm counting him as part of the majority.

 

weldone has been replaced by Samuel Vimes.

Time is up.

Lynch Count
2 - Heath (AVA, Furball)

No majority has been reached. A no lynch has been enforced.

 

If there was a part of him that didn't hurt, Tycho Celchu couldn't name it. His chief complaint came from his shoulders. He could feel the binders holding his arms at the small of his back constantly exerting pressure to pull his elbows closer together. They sheathed his arms in metal from fingertips to elbows and were the kind of restraints that had been outlawed for use on most civilised worlds.

He found himself lying on his stomach in the dark on a thin cot of some sort. He was naked, save for the binders, and the room was slightly chilled. A weak, barely noticeable vibration ran through the cot, producing a low hum that depending on how he turned his head, he could occasionally hear. He strained his eyes to determine if there was anything to see, but the utter absence of light foiled him.

He tried to remember what he could of his last moments on Coruscant. He'd lost control of his Headhunter and the manual override didn't work. Then a light had flashed on the console indicating the acceleration compensation unit had gone out. The ship flipped itself into a high g-force turn and he remembered nothing more. Without acceleration compensation, I felt the full effect of the turn. Blood drained from my brain and I went out.

Lights flashed on brilliantly in an instant, stabbing forked pain into his brain. He heard a door whoosh open and the careful, deliberate clank-clack of shoes on metal lattice steps, but he made no attempt to look in the direction of the sound. He refused to look, part of him knowing the individual had desired to make an entrance, and he congratulated himself for his restraint.

Ysanne Isard stood in the doorway and acknowledged Celchu's resistance as she approached him. "Very good, defiance. I like defiance."

Tycho shook his head violently, hoping the pain would be enough to make him black out. It was not. "I will never betray my friends."

Isard laughed at the helpless man before him. "I have heard this chorus from you many times before and it always sounds so sweet. Yet you have proven this to me Celchu. You will not betray them like others before you. I however will still be the instrument of your death and will strike a mighty blow against the Alliance's precarious unity. When I am through with you, little man, you will be nothing but a memory for your friends."

Mousey has been killed. He was Tycho Celchu, Rogue Two.

It is now Day 6. PMs incoming.

 

All PMs sent.