Timing
Sorry, scheduling over the weekend had too many conflict, and then my work got crazy.  However, Sunday is my last day of work, since I’m going back to school soon.  Would Monday work for people?  Or Tuesday or Wednesday, if not?
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@whodunnit-mafia
Timing
Sorry, scheduling over the weekend had too many conflict, and then my work got crazy.  However, Sunday is my last day of work, since I’m going back to school soon.  Would Monday work for people?  Or Tuesday or Wednesday, if not?
Wednesday, Saturday, and Thursday night are out
Or any time Wednesday-Sunday?
Schedule
People have a lot of conflicts earlier in the week. How is Thursday?
UPDATE
Hello everyone!  Sorry I have been gone for so long.  I went on break for out of town players, but then things got hectic with life.  But, I am back, and going to finish Mafia.  Not leave it forever hanging.  Also in good news, this will not take long.  Most of the endgame decisions have already been made, and though there are several big ones left, along with challenges, none of it will take long.  I’m going to end the game in one fell swoop.  So, this should take somewhere between one and three nights of gameplay.  I am thinking Monday or Tuesday evening, maybe?  What do you all think/when are you free?  Also, if you cannot continue mafia, I understand, and please message me to let me know.
Update
I’m out of town this weekend, but sometime early next week I’ll update the game with the results.  Only one person submitted a case this time, so we’ll see how that goes.  Feel free to drops questions or something if you have any though, and I’ll try to get back to you quickly.Â
Deadline extended to Tuesday at 11:58 pm central on request
Cases due Monday at 11:59PM Central Time
All clues are sent
A note that not all clues are the same length, but they do have approximately the same amount of useful information. Â Some are vastly longer, however.
Two clues sent out, the other three will be sent tonight or tomorrow morning.  Sorry, they all have to be personally customized and it’s sort of complicated.
results
The First Case: Â Nick
The Fallout: Â Kim
The Missing Years: Dylan
Behind the Scenes: Rentaro
The Beginning of the End: Alec
Meanwhile we see Connie modeling in New York City... She isn't dead.... Only rebirthed
Event
Everyone stood by a wall with three doors to three different hallways. Each one led to one of the areas in honor of a fallen comrades.  They checked their keycards, each listed their chosen location.  Dylan stepped forward, and slid his card through the electronic lock reading “Lori.”  It door let out a beep and opened.  Dylan took a deep breath and stepped inside.  Behind him, Rentaro checked his keycard, then stepped forward and followed suit, walking after Dylan into the location ahead.  The door closed behind them with a very final click.  Kim looked nervously at Alec and Nick.  She took a deep breath, like Dylan had, and stepped up to the door labeled “Grigor.”  Once she was inside, Nick turned to Alec.  “That’s me, too.  You?” he asked hopefully. Â
Alec shook his head, disappointed.  “Looks like I’m alone in Niobe’s wing.” Â
Nick wasn’t happy about it either.  He folded his hands behind his head and sighed.  “Look, stay alive, okay buddy?”  He took a few steps forwards, then turned and pointed at Alec “I mean it.”
Alec smiled.  He looked worried, but was doing a good job hiding it.  “I’m good, man.  You stay safe.”
Nick squared his shoulders and stepped through the door to Grigor’s wing.
“I’ll see you on the other side.” Alec said to the closing door.  He stood still for a moment, looked at his keycard, and then entered the door marked “Niobe” alone.
“What’s up?”  Rentaro asked, watching Dylan’s rather relieved expression as they walked together.
“Huh?  Oh, nothing—just glad it’s you in here with me.”  Dylan responded.
Dylan pulled open a rusty old door, and the two stepped into a beautiful train car, with an antique bar and comfortable looking chairs.
“Jackpot!” Rentaro said as Dylan let out a happy sigh.  Rentaro turned to Dylan.  “We haven’t had alcohol since I don’t know when.  What if we get just roaring drunk?  It’s not like it’s going to put us in more danger, at this point.”
Dylan nodded.  “I’ll agree to at least mildly tipsy.  I want to be able to put up a fight, but I could definitely down a few shots.  Why don’t we grab a bottle and go exploring?  It looks like there are more train cars.”
Kim and Nick walked side by side. Â
“I’m glad I’m not alone.”  Kim said, smiling up at Nick.
“Me too.  It’s just too bad Alec isn’t with us.” Nick replied.
“Yeah.”  Kim nodded. “I hope he’s okay on his own.  I mean, he should be—Dylan and I are scared, but…well you never know.”
Nick nodded.
They entered a second door and stepped out into an intricate section of underground tunnels—or rather, set pieces lined up to form a sort of tunnel. There was a fiery throne room, the river Styx, a garden—all sorts of underworld locations.
“Huh, very reassuring.”  Nick skipped a stone across the river Styx.  “At least if we die, we won’t have any trouble finding the boatman to take us across.”
Kim smiled and found a comfortable place to sit.  “Do we not get rooms this time?”
“Good question.”  Nick said thoughtfully.
Alec walked alone into a high ceilinged room—a museum, with all sorts of beautiful ancient Greek artifacts.  He walked over to a bench and sat down, alone.  No one to talk to.  It was eerie, and quiet.  Of course, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about—he wasn’t scare, but then, things in here got erratic. Â
He sighed and leaned against the bench. It was time to come up with some sort of plan. All alone like this, he was going to need one.
The monitors in each room turned on.  The killer’s voice echoed from the speakers.
“Attention.  Henry is currently…indisposed.  Things have changed, and I’ll be meeting with one of you shortly.  But.  Not yet. No, before our murder of the week, I want you all to solve a different case.  A murder of the year, if you will.  Now, I’m going to only give you select bits of information, so choose wisely. Doing badly on this case will cost you. Five people, one slot each.  No clues will be quite the same.  Three years ago, something happened.  A case.  A case which led to things, bad things.  The case ended unexpectedly, and things took a turn.  For three years, a new case became a cold case, and split into two cases, if you will.  During those years, many things happened that can never be undone.  At the end of those years, something changed, and something new began.  It’s time you final five got an idea of what you were dealing with.  This case, you can ask to see the First Case, the Fallout, the Missing Years, Behind the Scenes, or The Beginning of the End. Only one per person, first come, first served.  No part is considered more important than the others, when it comes to judging cases, but some may be more helpful than others in assisting you with filling in the blanks.  You are isolated, I realize, so you will have difficulty speaking with your fellow prisoners. I’m giving you all access to email each other via your electronic keycards, so you can trade clues. Trading will be essential, to form complete cases.  Lie at your own discretion and risk.  After all, we are at the final five now.  Good luck.”
The monitors shut off.
--------------------------------
Posting early so it can be read by 8:30 central, however, requests will not be accepted until 8:30 on the dot.
Pre-Event
The killer sat back in their chair and surveyed submitted cases. Â Interesting. Â Quite a surprising submission in there. Unlike all the rest. Â Huh. Â Something had to be done, they supposed.
The killer stood up.  They’d done their research.  They had a thorough grip on things now.  They couldn’t believe something so simple had gone unnoticed, that they—master of deception—had missed it.  It had been so obvious.  But it had been in their blind spot.  Things had hit close to home and they had been distracted by memories they’d tried to repress.  But things were different now.  Apparently two could play at that game.  Ha. They should have known, back when things were said, on the night Grigor, Lori, and Niobe had their fight.  It had been out of left field and they’d been suspicious since, but things had only just now finally all fallen into place. Well, that little burst of rebellion was about to end.  The killer picked up a gun from the table and checked the clip.  Such a pity.  They’d been a fool.
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Henry sat in his chair, thinking.  This was bad. He’d tried so hard to keep people alive, but things were spiraling.  His hand went absently to the bandage covering the right half of his face.  His mind flashed backwards, to the memory of waking up in that sterile, cold room, on a table.  He’d been starving to death, and he’d known it.  It had been cold, and he’d lost his ability to think one chunk at a time until he knew that he was dying.  You can taste it, when you’re dying.  You can taste it.  And he’d blacked out.  He sort of remembered that, and that he’d been afraid and relieved, but he couldn’t remember which had been the prevailing emotion.  And then, then he’d woken up, and he’d been in that steel room, on a table, with a drip in his arm.  He remembered coughing, and how it shook his whole body, and that when he’d opened his eyes he’d seen a blank white ceiling.  He’d tried to sit up, and failed.  Once he’d finally propped himself on his elbows he’d looked around. Everything had been fuzzy and blurry, but he’d seen the figure in the corner—the masked figure that had attacked him and cut up his face.  He’d panicked, and tried to move backwards, but his legs wouldn’t work.  The figure and started for him, and he’d managed to pull himself backwards a little, and nearly fallen from the table.  The figure had jumped the last few feet and caught him, pinning him against the table.
It had been so disorienting, he hadn’t even been entirely sure he was awake—that it was real, but the panic had been.  He’d fought the figure until it spoke, with its mechanically altered voice.
“Stop that. You’ll fall off the table.”
He didn’t know if it was fear, or resignation, or just that he’d already used all the energy he had left, but he’d stopped then.  That was the first time he’d really noticed the IV drip in his arm. He remembered asking “What…?” unable to finish the thought, his voice as cracked and broken as he felt.
“It would be an annoyance if you died so easily.  Now hold still.”
The voice was emotionless.  It always seemed to be.  The figure had reached for his face, and he’d tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to do.  The figure had inspected the wound over his eye, and cursed.  He remembered it had hurt much more than he’d thought possible.
The figure had picked up a scalpel from a tray nearby and turned back to him.  “Okay, this isn’t going to be pleasant.” Â
He’d realized what it meant after a second.  He remembered the horror creeping up his spine and the blood draining from his face. The figure had moved closer, positioning the knife.  Henry had been too afraid to move.  At the last second, the figure had paused and looked at him, then set their scalpel down. They pulled open a drawer and took out a mask and tank of gas.  He remembered they’d put the mask on his face and he’d tried to struggle again, but he’d only lasted a few seconds before fading out again. Â
When he woke up, his face had hurt. Â It always hurt, but this was new. Â A different pain. Â The aching, throbbing pain from before had been replaced by a sharp, smaller pain. Â
He’d still been disoriented, and he remembered struggling to sit up again. It took him a second to realize he could only see from his left eye.  He’d suddenly felt that it had to be gone, and his hand had shot up to see if he still had his right eye, but it had touched gauze.  He’d turned and caught his reflection in the polished metal wall, and seen a bandage covering the right side of his face.
“There.  I think you’ll survive a little while longer, but do yourself a favor, and don’t move.  If you unhook those IVs, you’ll go right back to where you were sitting, on death’s doorstep.”
The figure was back in the corner they’d been in earlier, pulling off a bloody pair of gloves and tossing them into a waste bin.  They looked over at Henry.  He was afraid to move or speak, but he’d nodded.
“Still scared of me?” For the first time, Henry thought he could hear the hint of a smile in the figure’s voice.  They took a step towards him, and he’d flinched reflexively.
“I thought so.  Good.” The figure said, stopping.  “Just because I patched you up, don’t think I wouldn’t hesitate to break you again, if you step out of line.  We clear?”
He’d nodded, and looked at his wrist.  For some reason the IV had seemed so unreal.
“Good.”  The figure turned, then looked back.  “If you need medical attention, make noise and I’ll come back.”
He’d staired at their retreating back until they were almost to the elevator before he’d found the ability to speak again.
“Why didn’t you just let me die?”
The figure had stopped and turned, tilting its head as it watched him.  “When I want you to die, you will, and you’ll know it’s time.”
They’d disappeared into the elevator then, leaving him to think.
Henry’s mind snapped back to the present.  That had been his second chance, and he’d taken it, and maybe, just maybe, it had made a difference. Â
He heard the elevator behind him ding.  That wasn’t right.  It could only be the killer, but why were they coming up?
He turned his chair. The killer stepped out, but something was wrong. Very wrong. Â The killer was armed, and something was off about their stance, their step, the way they were moving. Â Something was very, very wrong. Â Henry stood up too fast and almost blacked out, catching his chair arm for support.
The killer strode out of the elevator.  He was sure they were smiling when they spoke this time.  “Still very weak, Henry?”
“What’s going on?” Henry asked backing up.  He felt his thigh hid the computer bank behind him.  Nowhere to go.
“That’s good.”  The killer moved closer, ignoring his question. “That’ll make this easier.  Henry,” the killer stopped.  They reached up, and pulled off the mask.  Henry had nowhere to go, so he just stood there.  No escape.  The killer smiled and took another step forward, closing the last bit of distance between them.  “We need to talk.”
Rescheduled for 8:30 central tomorrow
Next event will be tomorrow at 5:30 cebtral
This is tentative, since I haven't heard from everyone. If you can't do 5:30, please message me and I will reschedule.
Would tonight work better for everyone?