Flaming_Tiki_God said:
I've been meaning to update this a while ago. College is a b****.
It's pretty obvious JCD is killed. I would have liked to give him the honor of writing him a proper death which I haven't had time to do (and currently, I'm stressing over a lab report that I don't see myself finishing in time).
If there's too much impatience, I suppose I'll have to skip it...
Um...JCD died. He was in the Mafia
It is Night 10
Finish your lab report, young brother. Never fear, for Blair is here!
Right...
It was a dark and stormy night. The remaining Mafia (however many there were) were sitting rather comfortably in a pile of their own filth. As you do. JCD, the most modest of the Mafia (as a pederast, not a pedophile, he'd always tried to follow the maxim "If there's grass on the wicket, you're good to play cricket, but if the pitch is bare, you shouldn't go there."), didn't want to add to the pile of feces. He'd been brought up in a nice society, before being tempted by the constant stream of murder and innuendo the Mafia, and Betaville as a whole had offered.
Running away from his father's millions, and his mother's scorn, he'd dedicated his life to the ways of the Samurai, and had dutifully showed respect to all creatures, believing honor to be the most important quality of life, holding it above the last breath in his body.
This was before the dildoes.
Now, a talented swordsman, but dishonored, and ashamed, he excused himself from the company of his bedfellows, and took a walk. As the lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled, above the constant pitter-patter of rain drops, JCD heard the sound of thousands of footsteps, marching purposefully, all in unison. Turning, and lifting the wide straw hat above his eyes, he saw the army that Betaville had bribed, to save them the bloodshed of the next lynching.
Four thousand strong, the army stood, with their hands on the blades. JCD looked skyward, to see the clouds above him part, and the sun shine through, bathing him in a circle of light. At last, he thought. My chance for redemption is now.
Throwing aside his cloak, and drawing his sword, he took stance, and prepared for what he knew to be his last stand. As the enemy rushed forth, the scene went silent, as JCD whispered the words "For Kurosawa..."
Slashing, back and forth, felling foe after bloody foe, driving his sword through flesh and bone, drowning the steel in blood. As the bladelust took hold, his eyes flashed red, and everything slowed down. He moved perfectly, his sword rising of its own accord to block incoming strikes, whirling over his head to cut short the flights of countless arrows, shattering shields beneath the force of his blows, until the last of the army toppled to the ground, lifeless.
The next lynching will have to be done by the townfolk themselves, he thought. None shall survive without blood on their hands. With that, he knelt before the pile of corpses, sheathed his katana, the sword which used to represent honor, and peace, and drew his tanto.
Removing his hat, and looking up at the rainbow in the sky, he plunged the knife into his abdomen, and swiftly drew it across his stomach. As he fell to the ground, with his last breath, he whispered "Please... Forgive me..."
In a final act of unparalleled heroism, against all odds, JCD redeemed his honor, and died with a smile on his face. His body was placed on a pyre, and pushed out to sea, and the ashes from his cremation rose to the heavens.
JCD died. He was in the Mafia.
