END OF NIGHT 1/ START OF DAY 2
Nobody sleeps well that night. Eerie wails echo throughout the submarine, the source unknown. Sometimes, a crew member will be woken up by a loud thump against the hull of the submarine. They’ll look out their window, and catch a glimpse of huge, luminous eyes shining through the water.
During the night, one person sneaks out of their room, a flask full of vinegar in their hand. They tip-toe silently, stopping in front of one of the bedrooms. “This should do it,” they murmur, setting the vinegar right outside the door. They reach into their lab coat, pulling out a packet of baking soda. Carefully, they shake the powder into the flask, pull on their lab goggles, and run away as quickly as they can. They close their eyes, and wait for the muffled sound of an explosion… only, nothing happens. They turn around— the mixture is bubbling over, but it isn’t nearly strong enough to kill the poor soul sleeping inside. Perhaps they should have paid more attention in Chemistry.
Little do they know, they’re quite lucky— who knows what could have happened to the sub if the mixture had actually exploded as they had planned? A breach in the hull could have been deadly to everybody several kilometers below the surface of the water.
Meanwhile, a young Romeo composes a love letter to one of the scientists— they haven’t confessed their feelings yet, but high-stress situations only serve to bring people closer together, right? They’re certain that the scientist will reciprocate their feelings. They fall asleep dreaming of love.
The reporter doesn’t sleep— they can’t after all, not with all the thoughts they’ve got floating around in their head about what has already happened on this expedition. They jot down several notes about the murder that took place earlier in the day, and spend the night planning out the article they can’t wait to write.
Midway through the night however, a loud knock at their door makes the reporter look up from their work. Nightskyseer opens the door, curious to see who could possibly be knocking at the door at this hour.
“Hello?” Night says, and a
masked figure waves cheerily from the other side of the door, knife in hand.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Night backs up, trying to get as far away as possible from the figure, only to trip over the bed.
“Sorry about this,” the figure says. She raises the knife in the air. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to, really. But I counted the vegetables in the pantry— we’re running out, and so we need to reduce the number of mouths to feed. No hard feelings?” she says.
“No, not cool!” Night tries to shout, but then the killer plunges the knife into her stomach.
“If it’s any consolation, I’m sure you’ll make an excellent pot roast,” she says. The killer then drags the body away, resolving to cut it up into nice tender pieces in the morning.
In the morning, a person wakes up with a potato on their bedside table. A small note is attached to it. “Let’s play a game,” it reads. “Pass the hot potato around before the time runs out— or don’t, up to you!”
When the crew trudges over to the dining hall, a person opens the fridge, searching for their share of the breakfast rations. Each package is labeled with a name, but they can’t seem to find theirs. “Who stole my cornflakes?” they ask, but the rest of the crew is as bewildered as they are. The person looks for their lunch and dinner just to be certain, but find that those packages are missing as well.
Nightskyseer has been killed. She was The Reporter.
A player received a potato!
A player has begun to starve.
The day will end on September 10th, at 18:30.
I’m still looking for subs for Warriorgirl1234 and Dragonsnest!
All results will be sent out shortly, give me a few minutes.
Nightskyseer’s Death Message:
My wincon was to guess all the mafia members before the game ended, and if you’re seeing this someone killed me or I’m really, really lucky and Dragon has a really good gut. Be gay do crime stan Loona drink tea