Frozen Hearts Mafia [Family Ties - Mafia/Survivor Victory]

End of Day Six Votals

Garuru (5) (Mister Visceral, Acionyx, SupahKiven, Affle, Cat)
Acionyx (1) (Eidolonic)

Abstaining (3) (Druplesnubb, Garuru, OzTheWizard)

...

JANUARY 23

I knew the end would come. I didn't know it would've come as alarmingly fast and as spectacularly as it did. I should've known it was all over once Lyncroft saw it was bad enough to directly interfere. His presence had to have been the straw that broke the camel's back.

The discussion started with near dead silence. The threat of imminent death had choked out all discussion. Garuru stood in the center of the room, the shining example of vigilante justice from before, sweating profusely. Even though he was old, I could still see his moments of weakness. The man was afraid for his life.

And rightfully so, as the entire criminal squadron revealed themselves in one go and piled on the old man. The last thing he did was take out the pump-action shotgun from beneath his trenchcoat and flung the mighty weapon at me before the criminals threw him to the floor, shooting and stabbing him to death.

In the following chaos, I managed to survive. I write this two days after the fact from a hotel in Whitewash City, trying to stay low with a contact of Lyncroft's while he devises a way to get me home. I absolutely hate it in this city, by the way. It reeks of profiteering and corruption - exactly what Caribou's Den became in its final righteous hours.

Nevertheless, here's Garuru and his legacy as the closest thing Caribou's Den had to a hero.

SpoilerShow

The corner of 31st and Wellington housed a rarity for a business-oriented city like Caribou's Den - a historical faculty. A small, dimly-lit museum sheltered military artifacts of a war-torn era long past. He once walked the grounds of the battlefields, most notably in those forsaken jungle conflicts within the western rainforests. It was under his guidance that three of the army's best combatants participated in an infiltration and detonation mission that sealed victory for the aligned forces. It was a mission in scorching sun under burning trees, culminating in a hair-raising escape.

All he remembered - written on a note on his desk - were the names of his former "Green Horizon" operatives. Sergeants Harding, Franklin, Zerstörung. He wondered what became of those three. None of them seemed right after that mission.

Garuru was Commander Blaine Backman, a retired soldier who resided in Caribou's Den. Most individuals wouldn't choose a frozen city as their choice of residence, but the high quality of life and lack of anything to do other than stay inside all day made it a reasonably good choice for him. The entrepreneurial spirit about the city soon inspired him, and thus he put his collection of army memorabilia on display (for a small fee). The veteran's discount most businesses offered was a pretty sweet deal for him as well.

Trouble began brewing in Caribou's Den, however, and the sense of security about the city soon disappeared. Thankfully, he had makeshift living quarters in his own museum that protected him, just like I did. He didn't suspect anyone would come for him, but they did - and he soon proved that recognition as top sharpshooter in his training division was more than just for show.

Garuru was a TOWN RECHARGING BULLETPROOF/DAY VIGILANTE.

He had inherent bulletproof protection. Attempts on his life were likely to fail.

Upon surviving an attempt on his life, his bulletproof protection would go away. In exchange, he gained a one-shot day vigilante kill. If he successfully killed a member of the Mafia with his dayvig, his bulletproof protection would subsequently return, and the cycle would repeat until he failed to kill Mafia, and would effectively turn vanilla.

Garuru was a LOYAL CUSTOMER, and thus held Caribou's Den's best interests at heart. He would achieve victory with his fellow cafegoers when all threats to the safety and stability of Caribou's Den were eliminated.

With the commander dead, the criminals turned to me and Lyncroft. Staring us and the rest of the innocents down, I could see them start to raise their weapons. Lyncroft drew his old revolver from the start of his police days, and I raised the shotgun granted to me. This looked to be our last stand, and I refused to go down.

"Don't kill another innocent customer of mine, you cretins," I snarled. My words set off a prompt firefight between all of us, with pistols flying behind the counter and my shotgun shells responding in time. As the fighting died down, I grabbed Lyncroft and pulled him with me into the back door of the cafe, leading us downstairs to my dwelling. In case of an emergency, there was one escape I could use. It was less than ideal, but we had no choice with the criminals standing between us and the main entrance.

Shotgun facing outward, I backed into the room and locked the door before they could chase. With heavy pounding and kicking, Lyncroft and I fled into the depths of the cellar.