Post by FruitAndGarbage on Jan 15, 2014 0:53:06 GMT -5
Perhaps it was unsurprising that most of the people trapped beneath the convention were more interested in protecting themselves than outing the traitors among them. By and large, their trades were ones of self-preservation and secrecy, and no-one wanted to paint a target on their back by seeming to know too much or make the first move. Of course, without knowing anything, how could the killers be outed? It was suggested, quietly and circumspectly, that perhaps in addition to lynching one of their number, the group could take a somewhat more... surveillant approach. The group as a whole agreed, each confident in the knowledge that it would be more useful for them than for anyone else; that raised its problems as well, since no-one wanted to end up as the one under scrutiny, but the discussion continued.
Eventually, two figures rose to prominence in the debate; one was adamantly opposed to the revelation of any information about himself, while the other seemed content to allow it, almost asking to be investigated. It was a close thing, but eventually the mob's apathy overruled its enthusiasm, and it settled on the target that seemed easier. With no hesitation, the man calling himself BillMc dropped a name badge on the table. Nobody even bothered to look at it. The willingness to let himself be seen just made him more suspicious in the minds of most present: the innocent have plenty to fear, it's only the guilty with an alibi that are confident.
"It's a forgery, obviously."
BillMc shrugged. "It's got the official NATO seal on it. Most of you are actually supposed to be at the conference, you ought to recognize it and know a fake."
Someone else scoffed. "Even if it's real, you could be a Soviet plant."
"If the Soviets could get their agents into the conference, they wouldn't have needed to go through all this trouble with us."
And so the discussion went. Eventually, the majority decided that it was as believable as any information they would get, but many remained skeptical.
BillMc's name is Alf Yakovlev.
Conversation turned elsewhere, namely to who among the group was the most suspicious, the most dangerous, the most in need of a swift sharp shot. But one member of the group seemed to be sticking on something. He kept quiet for a while while the discussion proceeded, before eventually bursting out:
"Alf Yakovlev!"
Heads turned and he coughed. "I, uh, I just know the name, and I finally remembered where I'd heard it. He's a linguistics expert."
Further silence. "Did government work for the Danish for a long time. Probably still does."
BillMc arched an eyebrow, but nodded. "Actually, yeah. That's all true. How did you know?"
"You pick things up, here and there."
And that seemed to be all there was to the matter.
BillMc is from Denmark.
Inevitably, though, the conversation returned to what was foremost on everyone's mind. Oddly, there seemed to be few opinions on the subject, and not out of reluctance this time so much as a lack of anything to base it off of. Things waffled back and forth between a number of people, often for seemingly-inconsequential acts, and there seemed to be no frontrunner emerging. Eventually, a hesitant plurality settled on one man. There was a kind of grudging resignation to it, but it seemed a decision had been made.
Until he blurted out "I'm a doctor!"
There was no way to verify it, of course, but few people wanted to harm a medic. Most present knew the value of someone who could prevent an injury from becoming a fatality. It was... difficult to attack someone like that when there was no particularly-damning evidence against them. The decision faltered and fell away.
Much of the group hadn't even seemed interested in casting a vote, much less leading the charge against one particular person. It was probably that apathy, combined with the eleventh-hour claim of medical knowledge, that lead to everyone's second choice facing the metaphorical gallows.
Surprisingly, there was little resistance; when faced with overwhelming odds, some men just give up and go peacefully; so it was with guiri. The mob descended. Someone found a blade. There was blood. It was over. The search of the corpse revealed some interesting, and frankly conflicting, things.
guiri was Dannie Dannel, an Englishman. Despite his government's staunch opposition to the Soviets, it appears he was very fond of the idea of communism. It also appeared he hadn't ever managed to come into contact with a genuine communist cell, and wasn't really a man of very strong convictions. If certain conditions had been met, he would have aligned with the mafia, but until those conditions were met, he was aligned with the town. As of his death, he was a town-aligned defector.
It might have been less disquieting if he'd put up a fight. Many present had seen violence in their lives, whether before the wars or since, and when there was a fight something took over. You did what needed doing, you fought what was in front of you. It made them less human. This was wrong, somehow. The group dispersed, saying little, some to attempt escape, some to contemplate the day's discussion, and some, doubtless, to their own nefarious devices. It wasn't the best result, but it could have been worse. Perhaps that was enough, for now.
Night 1 begins now and ends in 48 hours (Thursday, January 14th at 10:00 PM PST). Please submit your actions before then, via PM or on your private board if applicable. In the meantime, feel free to discuss in this thread.
Eventually, two figures rose to prominence in the debate; one was adamantly opposed to the revelation of any information about himself, while the other seemed content to allow it, almost asking to be investigated. It was a close thing, but eventually the mob's apathy overruled its enthusiasm, and it settled on the target that seemed easier. With no hesitation, the man calling himself BillMc dropped a name badge on the table. Nobody even bothered to look at it. The willingness to let himself be seen just made him more suspicious in the minds of most present: the innocent have plenty to fear, it's only the guilty with an alibi that are confident.
"It's a forgery, obviously."
BillMc shrugged. "It's got the official NATO seal on it. Most of you are actually supposed to be at the conference, you ought to recognize it and know a fake."
Someone else scoffed. "Even if it's real, you could be a Soviet plant."
"If the Soviets could get their agents into the conference, they wouldn't have needed to go through all this trouble with us."
And so the discussion went. Eventually, the majority decided that it was as believable as any information they would get, but many remained skeptical.
BillMc's name is Alf Yakovlev.
Conversation turned elsewhere, namely to who among the group was the most suspicious, the most dangerous, the most in need of a swift sharp shot. But one member of the group seemed to be sticking on something. He kept quiet for a while while the discussion proceeded, before eventually bursting out:
"Alf Yakovlev!"
Heads turned and he coughed. "I, uh, I just know the name, and I finally remembered where I'd heard it. He's a linguistics expert."
Further silence. "Did government work for the Danish for a long time. Probably still does."
BillMc arched an eyebrow, but nodded. "Actually, yeah. That's all true. How did you know?"
"You pick things up, here and there."
And that seemed to be all there was to the matter.
BillMc is from Denmark.
Inevitably, though, the conversation returned to what was foremost on everyone's mind. Oddly, there seemed to be few opinions on the subject, and not out of reluctance this time so much as a lack of anything to base it off of. Things waffled back and forth between a number of people, often for seemingly-inconsequential acts, and there seemed to be no frontrunner emerging. Eventually, a hesitant plurality settled on one man. There was a kind of grudging resignation to it, but it seemed a decision had been made.
Until he blurted out "I'm a doctor!"
There was no way to verify it, of course, but few people wanted to harm a medic. Most present knew the value of someone who could prevent an injury from becoming a fatality. It was... difficult to attack someone like that when there was no particularly-damning evidence against them. The decision faltered and fell away.
Much of the group hadn't even seemed interested in casting a vote, much less leading the charge against one particular person. It was probably that apathy, combined with the eleventh-hour claim of medical knowledge, that lead to everyone's second choice facing the metaphorical gallows.
Surprisingly, there was little resistance; when faced with overwhelming odds, some men just give up and go peacefully; so it was with guiri. The mob descended. Someone found a blade. There was blood. It was over. The search of the corpse revealed some interesting, and frankly conflicting, things.
guiri was Dannie Dannel, an Englishman. Despite his government's staunch opposition to the Soviets, it appears he was very fond of the idea of communism. It also appeared he hadn't ever managed to come into contact with a genuine communist cell, and wasn't really a man of very strong convictions. If certain conditions had been met, he would have aligned with the mafia, but until those conditions were met, he was aligned with the town. As of his death, he was a town-aligned defector.
It might have been less disquieting if he'd put up a fight. Many present had seen violence in their lives, whether before the wars or since, and when there was a fight something took over. You did what needed doing, you fought what was in front of you. It made them less human. This was wrong, somehow. The group dispersed, saying little, some to attempt escape, some to contemplate the day's discussion, and some, doubtless, to their own nefarious devices. It wasn't the best result, but it could have been worse. Perhaps that was enough, for now.
Night 1 begins now and ends in 48 hours (Thursday, January 14th at 10:00 PM PST). Please submit your actions before then, via PM or on your private board if applicable. In the meantime, feel free to discuss in this thread.