The days had flown past as the time ticked down until the train's arrival to it's destination. The passengers had barely noticed it, especially after their exhaustive investigation into the Count's tequila supply unveiled a secret compartment with an assortment of the finest kinds of alcohol known to man. You had all known the Count was very careful with what he drank but this went beyond your wildest imagination.
But now, as the fourth day drew to a close, tragedy struck. Someone, during the night, had smashed every single bottle!
Angry, the amateur investigators grouped together and started pooling clues. One after another the accusing fingers turned towards the butler. He didn't drink. He had been seen sneaking near the Count's room before the murder. He was British and thus not to be trusted. As the group circled closer to him, he threw his hands up in the air.
"Fine! I did smash the bottles! That was because everyone was just drinking and not trying to find me!"
A shocked silence, interrupted soon by his continuing tirade. "All the fake clues I planted! The evidence that pointed to first one and then another of you! Taking the utmost care to not leave anything behind for you to find! And nobody. noticed. ANYTHING!"
Finally, Patrick Morris stumbled to the scene from his room. "What is going on here? I have a huge headache and if you don't stop all this shouting RIGHT NOW, I'm going to shoot somebody!"
The accusing fingers of the crowd pointed at George. "Shoot? SHOOT? That's the most uncivilized thing I have ever heard! Only an American would ever even THINK of something like that!"
The other investigators formed a circle around the two, who gazed at each other, George with steely eyes watching his enemy's movements like a hawk, while Patrick swayed a bit from side to side, his eyes wandering on the faces of the bystanders. An utterly silent moment passed...
George made the first move. With movements quick as a snake he pulled a piano wire from his pocket and charged Patrick. Patrick blocked his attacks seemingly without noticing, took a sip from a bottle in his own pocket and drunkenly sank into a mock boxing stance.
George's attacks were of a very rarely seen butlerian kung-fu style, which all butlers of their order had to learn. They were fast, deadly and precise, but still no match to the seemingly unbelievably lucky dodging by the drunken boxing master Patrick Morris. Finally, Patrick had had enough. "I AM PATRICK! I AM NOT /b/!" He pulled his gun, shot around the room causing the onlookers to duck, and the fourteenth shot from the single six-shot revolver impacted the mandatory chandelier.
"Ha! Like that would actually work on a trained butler." George easily dodged the falling chandelier... when the fifteenth bullet impacted him in the chest. "Wha-" He collapsed.
Patrick walked up to him. "Why? Why did you do it?"
"I did it all... for the lulz..."
"No, not the murder! All the thrice-cursed SHOUTING!"
But George was already dead.
Summary: George Edwards(Grim Reaper) learned not to bring a piano wire to a gunfight. He was the Murderer.
Patrick Morris(Mageking17) wins the Ultimate Victory, while Elisabeth Forsyth(Amarth), Tom Lorraine(E_net4), Jack Snyder(Idiota) and Carrie Jones(NeoGangster) get just a normal Victory.
James Woodworth (Zankman) gets nothing in particular for not joining the bandwagon but surviving to the end.
Any comments and questions are welcome.