Remember: This is a contest being held by the Shadows in New Orleans. Remember to send all submissions to Egwene, or you will be disqualified.

The Grand Lounge of the Riverboat Treasure Chest was looking a bit dilapidated. Decorations were sparse and neglected card tables were hastily arranged and covered with table clothes for eating. Times were hard for Egwene ever since the Gods were forced to close casinos for the foreseeable future. As much as she wanted to Masque to be a success, she also needed to pinch the pennies. Eighteen of the city’s best were in hiding, and she still had to pay exorbitant fees to the casino staff so that they would be available at a moment’s notice.

Kompton arrived early to open the place for the catering staff and the bartenders that he had hired earlier in the week. He looked around the room and cringed.

“Hey Mickey,” he called to the barkeep, “pour double shots for all the drinks, maybe that will keep the guests from remembering the shabby state of things here”

Eve smiled into the mirror as she applied the finishing touches to her make-up.  Tonight was going to be special.  She felt as though she had been planning this anniversary party for years.  Finally the night had arrived.  From her room, she could hear the buzz of people as they boarded the ship and soon she felt as they started to sail away from the pier. 

She was giddy with excitement as she went to collect the guest of honor, her Godfather RoRoG from his suite.  BananaBender stopped her cold with his stare as she approached. 

Whispering, he leaned close and spoke into her ear, “InnocentBitch was killed.  I found her body in her room 10 minutes ago.  I came here to inform RoRoG.  She hasn’t been affiliated with the family for a long time, so I think this killing was not mafia related.”

“A murderer on my ship?” she gasped in outrage!  “You speak to RoRoG, I will start the search before someone else dies”  She watched BananaBender slip into RoRoG’s suite, before hightailing it to the Ground Lounge. 

Once in the lounge, Eve dodged questions and requests for the guest of honor until she was able to reach a podium at the front of the room.  “Excuse Me, Excuse Me, May I have your attention please?  I have an urgent and terrifying news story, and I need you all to stop what you are doing and listen!  InnocentBitch has been found dead.  Someone on this ship has committed a murder!”

Gasps and outraged whispers erupted from the crowd, Egwene raised her hand to quiet the guests.  “I hope we can all agree to remain calm, and stay in this area of the ship until the culprit can be identified.  I will have dinner served on time, However; RoRoG will not be joining us tonight.”

Being in the presence of a murderer, as she almost certainly was, ImaGoner shifted her eyes about the crowd, unease quickly overtaking her. What would stop them from murdering again? And why InnocentBitch? Was it just a random victim or was there truly a motive? If so, what was the motive and how could she avoid causing it? Her heart started to race as the room seemed to get smaller around her, walls and people closing in. Any one of them could be the murderer. Slowly, she backed against a wall, trying to make sure she could keep an eye on everything around her until the culprit was found. To ease her anxiety, she took a sip of rum and coke as she tried to steady her nerves.

Gill T. Ascharged was a drinker. Nothing could fill that hole in the pit of his stomach like the harsh tang of a double hit of whiskey. It especially helped when it was in a fancy glass, with two ice cubes. He heard the crack the liquor made as it hit the ice and poured into the bottom of the tumbler. He heard the delicate chink as the ice cubes bounced together and hit the side. He heard the gentle intake of air before he opened his mouth, whispering his welcome to the demon before slaking his eternal thirst.

It wasn't that he liked or even enjoyed drinking, it just helped him to forget the things he no longer cared to remember. Like the names of the friends he used to have or the way his daughter used to laugh. Things like that. Little things; things that once upon a time mattered to him. Things that had mattered, he now realised, to an entirely different man.

It hadn't always been this way and he hadn't always had a hole in the pit of his stomach either. He used to be somebody, somebody important. Somebody people looked up to. How he longed to forget that. Nothing comes easy in this life, he understood, but seldom does anyone realise the price they have to pay until they've had to pay it, least of all him.

He had a wife once. A daughter. A life. He had even been happy, but it was so long since he had been happy that even the word tasted bitter to him, poisonous and vile. Even after he'd lost them, he used to think about the good times and get satisfaction from them; not anymore. Now he couldn't even remember their faces, the sound of their voices or the smell of their skin. He had cried the first time he realised that; that his wife was just a blur and his daughter a silhouette in the sun as she played in his mind's eye, innocent and...happy.

Now he didn't cry. Now he drowned out the past and the present alike. The bottom of the bottle was his refuge and he savoured it with increasing regularity. Some people still hoped he would snap out of it and wake up one morning and be his old self. That was how he ended up here after all, on this boat, in the Grand Lounge of the Riverboat Treasure Chest Casino, looking entirely out of place. A relic from a different time, valuable once, but now worthless and discarded. The Egyptians used to worship cats, today people kept them as pets for their own enjoyment - Gill T. Ascharged empathised with the cats.

He cannoned down more of his third whiskey and welcomed the familiar warm haze that it brought with it. He smiled to himself and one of the guests shuffled away from him. Once upon a time he might have been offended by that, might even have called her out on it, but that was a different time and now he was used to it. Nobody wanted to stand too near to a drunk and least of all near to him, a drunk who hated the world. He probably wouldn't even stand next to himself given the choice. He snorted at that revelation, his self pity and self loathing fighting a battle to see which would win out today. He twirled the glass in his calloused hand, hearing the chink of the ice cubes against the crystal, loving and hating that sound in equal measure.

"Excuse me, excuse me, may I have your attention please?" A woman announced from a podium at the front of the room. Gill T. Ascharged looked up and laid a hand on the nearby table to steady himself. He nearly pulled the table cloth off but managed to right himself in a noisy clatter of glass and cutlery. He swayed slightly on his feet as the woman continued. He vaguely recognised her, as he vaguely recognised everyone it seemed; just another person at the edge of his world, trying to intrude on his hate and his bitterness. He tried to block her out with another drink and picked up his glass.

"I have an urgent and terrifying news story, and I need you to stop what you are doing and listen!" This sounded serious. He looked into the glass and threw back the rest of it. It tasted hot and angry in his throat, shouting its way down to his stomach. His vision narrowed further and an idiot's grin worked itself onto his face, a teasing smile, tweaking the corner of his mouth, entirely of its own volition.

"InnocentBitch has been found dead. Someone on this ship has committed a murder!" There was gasps and outraged whispers from the other guests, but Gill T. Ascharged didn't join them. He took the news without reaction. People cast a glance at him now, those people who had ignored the drunken fool and moved away from him. Now they looked at him again, they considered that smirk on his face. Was it just a lush's smile, brought about by too many days and too many drinks or was it the callous delight of a killer?

He snorted again, somewhere between disgust and derision. He felt the suspicion of the crowd settle on him. He wore it like a cloak. Let the rest of them wonder about the murderer, his only concern was finding someone willing to top up his glass.

Ima Goner contemplated getting another drink; one clearly was not going to cut it. However, in order to do that, she had to walk across the room, through the throngs of people who could snap at any moment. It was never good to be in situations like this, in the middle of a crowd filled with paranoid people. They were unpredictable. They’d be accusing their best friends soon enough, likely getting into physical fights over it too. And to all be locked in one room together? Well, it was understandable, the murderer could get away otherwise, if they were even in the room to begin with.

She had to take a chance. Her empty glass shaking in one hand with the fingers of her other curled around a knife in her pocket, she pushed forward, her need for alcohol overcoming her desire to be alone. Most everyone around her seemed to be thinking along the lines as she was, jumping at anything that moved. Her grip around the handle of the knife tightened as she passed closely to the others standing around. She knew nothing was going to happen. With so many people around, no one would dare try something. Even so, that thought did little to comfort her.

Finally reaching the bar, Ima handed her glass to Mickey, stammering out a request for him to refill it with rum and coke. No ice. She never could stand watered down drinks. While she waited for her drink, she looked over her shoulder, making sure no one wandered too close.

Nickita is so excited for this will be the first Masquerade ball that she will attend. She actually slip past the guards and sneak her way in. The feeling of fooling those people excites her.

Just as she is feeling comfy and entertains herself by observing the people here , Egwene self righteously takes the limelight and announced that there is a murderer among them. In all fairness she knew that this event will be exciting, but she didn't expect it to be THAT exciting

"Murder on a ship" I mumbled.... "Guess anything and everything is possible when one wanted to entertain oneself. "

Nickita notice the 2 women who looks like they wanted to puke after they hear of the announcement. Really they are over reacting on these things, it's not like the electricity will be put out and one by one they will be killed

Egwene scrutinized the crowd, and realized that she needed to attempt to do something to alleviate the mood.  She motioned to Ron with the intention of asking him to begin the set of Jazz Flute that she had hired him to play as dinner entertainment, when her thoughts were interupted by an earsplitting scream. 

The crowd erupted in startled gasps.  A few women cried out and clutched onto the arms of their significant other.  Egwene darted towards the ships cabins and unlocked the doors to the main hall, leaving them wide open in her haste.  She ran in the direction of the scream, but she didn't travel far before she saw blood slowly pooling on the dock of the ship.  Without thought she ran to kneel at the victims side.  The woman had been stabbed, once in the abdomen, and a slash across the throat.  There was no way she could have survived such wounds.  Men and a few women started to file around Egwene.  She recognized the woman as Twisted, an old associate of the shadows.  She reached down and pulled her friends eyes closed. 

She stood, and murmured a few instructions to those in her employ, they began to disperse, looking for the guilty party. 

Gill T. Ascharged knew what was happening before it did. He was far too experienced with this sort of thing to not notice the signs as they assailed him. First the room began to spin, the walls pirouetting across his vision. Next, his mouth went dry, his tongue feeling far too big for his mouth. Then, his stomach started to join in the rebellion, warning him that it was shortly going to expel the poison that he had forced down his throat. He sucked in a huge breath, trying to fight off the inevitable long enough so he could find somewhere he could vomit in peace.

“Out of my way” he growled at the man in front of the doors.

“Sorry sir, Egwene has ordered everyone to stay together” the man answered, impassively.

“Look lad” Gill began, clutching his stomach with one hand, his eyes going wide as he battled against being sick “unless you want me to be sick on your nice suit, get out of the fucking way!” The man looked up aghast, but didn’t resist as Gill pushed him aside and staggered out onto the deck.

He made his way out of the grand lounge towards the rail, stumbling as he went. He drew another deep breath and his stomach gurgled in response. He could taste the hot acrid fire at the back of his throat and he hurried to the ship's rail. He hung over the side, heaving his stomach out into the night. He retched and gagged as he forced the contents of his body overboard. When he felt like he couldn't retch anymore, he did. His insides felt raw and painful from the assault, but he knew he would subject them to more before the night was through. He tried to move away, but his body disagreed, calling him back to retch again. He spat the bitter remnants of the whiskey over the side. Tears filled his eyes, as he gagged again desperately.

Finally, he pulled in another breath and sank to the floor. He managed to push himself onto his knees and draw back from the rail. He lurched to his feet and took a step back towards the lounge. He pushed his hair back into place and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth with it. He looked at the yellow smear on it and threw it aside. His nostrils burned, but there was little he could do about that as he made his way back inside.

There was a shock and fear amongst the crowd and Gill looked about himself, worried that he was presenting a horrifying picture to spark such a reaction. After a frantic check about himself, with his mind still muddled from the booze, it took him several seconds to realise that nobody was looking at him and he watched as Egwene darting towards the ships cabins.

He made his way through the doors to the main hall and pushed through the throng of people, mumbling courtesies and apologies as he went. He looked at the terror on the faces around him and guessed what he was going to see, long before he actually did. A woman lay on the floor and she had been stabbed, once in the abdomen and a slash across the throat. Blood was pooling on the deck of the ship.

Gill T. Ascharged sighed to himself. People would start asking questions soon, wondering where everyone else was at the time of the second attack. He made his way back to the lounge and approached the barman. He gestured to the scotch behind the bar.

“Fill me up.” He muttered, but the man looked blankly back at him, clearly shaken by the events on board. Gill looked at him questioningly.

"Scotch. On the rocks." Gill said again, looking the man in the eye. This seemed to wake him from his reverie and with a shaking hand he pulled out a glass and began to fill it.

Gill rested his hands on the bar and his body screamed at him not to drink anymore tonight. He ignored it, just like he always did and waited for the drink to arrive, deciding what he would do next.

Mickey the original barkeep was just leaving the bar to go to the bathroom. It left him the perfect oppurtunity to rapture the bartenders position. He smiled as he began to walk over to it. The gathered crowd seemed to be very nervous about a certain situation. After hearing the mumbling about what had happened he realized anyone of them could be next. So yes, fear here was a completely normal and acceptable feeling. It seemed as if they were all enjoying to be afraid though In fact there was a certain desire they all had to be killed or to confront the killer face to face. That really wasnt likely though was it?

oh well...

The walk to the bar was stopped as a woman stared at him with eyes of fear. Of course he was bigger then her, his twenty four inch pythons ripped the sleeves of his dress shirt everytime he used his muscles, so that could very well be the reason she stared at him. Her eyes widening and mouth dropping. He took a pen out of his pocket and began to sign his autograph on a piece of paper. Mr. Incognito smiled as a R.I.P. button was gently placed on his suit just like his ancestor. This, this must be who she realized who he was under the red and yellow mask.

Just dont tell anyone who i am ok?!

His hand fell on the shoulder of Ima Goner. After he left the other woman. She was looking over the wrong shoulder. The immediate response to stab him with the knife she held was only stopped by the smile on his face. She felt an ease fall over her and he felt a continued feeling of something that was lost a while back.

Hi i was just coming for a drink. Listen, no ones going to hurt you. I promise you ok. That little knife will hardly stop the person if he was going to get you anyway. Just stay with me and ill protect you.

The smile he gave was calming. Yes. There was a certain quality about this man that made people feel comfortable enough to be themselves again. He quietly poured her another drink as Mickey hadnt returned yet. Then poured Gill another drink as well.

Im going to run to the restroom really quick...Ill be right back ok? Dont move Ima Goner I will be right back.

With that the man in the red and yellow mask walked into the dark hallway to find the bathrooms. Not to concerened with finding a killer as much as finding someone who was a hinderence to him.

“Innocentbitch was found dead. Someone on the ship is a murderer!” a voice cried and gasps and murmer filled the room. Harry Poms didn't care, what was another life extinguished in the grand scheme of things. I mean, who in this room hadn't taken a life at one point or another. He was almost glad that she was dead. She was the reason that his father had gotten into the family and left him and his mother. Yeah, his old man always had a big wad of cash and the family didn't want for anything...except his presence. Harry Poms had watched so many kids play ball with their dads in their backyards and knew that he'd never have that with his dad. He was always too busy. He always had business to take care of and when he died. Harry Poms had to take his father's place as the provider. As much as he hated it there wasn't much of an option but the family. Life and death were slowly becoming just words. A family member dies. It's sad and should be mourned but you need to get over it and replace him. The business can't stop because of one death.

He sighed and lit his cigar. How had he become so callous? Was it really his father and the family? Or was he just using them as an excuse? He was never really happy, even as a child. Harry Poms was probably just as guilty for his own callousness as anything else. He took a few few puffs of his cigar and let the tobacco fill his lungs. It was one of the few things he actually enjoyed anymore. He didn't get a rush from crime anymore and he was never much of a drinker but a good cigar. There was nothing better than that. People you meet will come and go, be born and die, but the memory of a fine cigar will live as long as you do.

Ima was only slightly relieved at having a friendly face around, though a bit offended that he assumed because she was female she would need protection. The killer used a knife, why should he have a better chance than her? Mr. Incognito didn’t know her, didn’t know how well she knew how to use a blade, and frankly his ego was a bit annoying. But at least he spoke to her, which was more than anyone else around.

Now she was left alone with a rather suspicious, if not entirely smashed, looking man. She had seen him earlier, seen how he had little if any reaction to the news of the murders. Not even a faint interest or slight surprise. If anyone there was the murderer, her money was on him. But she couldn’t just move away from him, he might catch on that she knew. And so far neither of the murders had taken place in the large room, so as far as she was concerned, the man was harmless, though his repugnant odor would try to disagree. Clearly he’d had one too many already and it didn’t look like he was about to slow down any time soon.

With nothing better to do, and not wanting to draw unneeded attention to herself, Ima leaned against the bar and watched the people closest to her, a firm grip still on the handle of her blade as she slowly sipped at her drink.

Coming back from the bathroom the man fixed his tie back in place and kept the mask on his face. A hint of a smile of his pearly whites flashed through and his blonde hair escaped from the back of the mask.

Glad to see you stuck around Ima. At least now we have each other. Have you seen any suspicious...

The man in the yellow and red mask was startled at the young woman when he seen that she was holding the knife again perched up against the wall. He put his hands on both of her shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

This is very important if anyone sees you with that knife you will be accused of murder and they will take you to jail for it and the real murderer will get away. Here throw it away over the ship or something.

It seemed as if it was a bit of a tough thing for her to do so he made sure he would be there for her no matter what happened. In a situation like this friends were most definitely needed and to not have one was the same as already being ready to be killed. She needed him like he needed her. He waited for her decision as to what she would do with the knife while his eyes caught the movements of a few newcomers in the ship.

Her eyes narrowing on his, Ima pulled back from Mr. Incognito’s grip.

I’m sorry, but this knife was a gift to me from a dear friend. And it has no blood on it, and there is no blood on my clothes. Let them think what they wish, I’m not giving it up.
She crossed her arms and stood firm, her eyes intently burning into his. She would not be swayed into handing over, let alone tossing overboard, one of the few things she held dear in this world. Let them haul her away if they must, she would not give up the knife.

Gill was doing his best to ignore everyone else in the room, but without the alcohol in his system to blind him to everything that was going on, it was difficult not to fall back into his old habits. He picked up the glass and took a small sip, far smaller than he usually would or even had done so far that day. He knew that he needed to ease his way back into a stupor if he going to succeed, otherwise his body wouldn't let him.

Still, with his increasing sobriety his wits began to return to him, even if he didn't want them to. He could feel the eyes of the woman further down the bar resting on him, then darting quickly away, staring but not staring. He noted too, the shape of her hand in her pocket, the way her knuckles pressed up against the fabric. Holding something then, Gill mused to himself. Difficult to know for sure what it was could be nothing; a cross, something important to her, or it could be the knife that opened up the girl on the deck outside. Gill had no way of knowing for sure and in his experience it was always best to seem less than you are, so he continued to do nothing and watch.

He was still facing the bar in silence, as a man with blond hair, a too white smile and wearing a red and yellow mask came up to the woman. He acted like they knew each other, yet she didn't seem to reciprocate his easy and casual demeanour. He was speaking softly to her and Gill couldn't hear all the words. The man in the yellow and red mask put both of his hands on the woman's shoulders; Gill thought he heard the word knife, although he couldn't be sure. Better to assume the worst though, he thought - one of them was armed.

Peppers, as Gill had taken to referring to the man in the mask, was still looking right at the woman. Gill snorted to himself as she narrowed her eyes and pulled away from him - nice try buddy, you need to work on your game. This was no damsel in distress needing rescuing, that was plain as day. Could she have been the murderer? She certainly seemed like she had a weapon and Peppers was pressuring her about something. He was starting to dislike Peppers. He was too relaxed and too calm in a room with a killer. That and the woman didn’t seem too pleased with him and as she probably had the knife, that didn’t seem too clever.

Gill T. Ascharged picked up his glass and took another tentative sip from it. He cursed under his breath as his stomach sent another warning for him to stop. Fine. Maybe tonight he would be better off sober or at least not drunk. He grinned at that and took another defiant sip, immediately regretting it. He turned around, facing the centre of the lounge and looked out into the room. The crowd looked much as he expected it to, lots of frightened faces and lots of suspicion. Gill hated crowds.

Amidst all this anxiety and fear, there was a man calmly smoking a cigar, savouring it. He could just have easily been standing on a balcony somewhere, relaxing, rather than on the Riverboat Treasure Casino in the presence of the murderer. Gill recognised all the signs, the man was as jaded with the world as he himself was and maybe this was the only man who knew what was really going on. The killer.

"Great" Gill muttered to himself and pushed aside his drink as his stomach cramped painfully again. His body wasn't going to let him pass this night in a haze, so booze wasn't going to help him. He grimaced at that. Fine, he thought to himself, fine. The conversation was still going on between Peppers and the woman at the end of the bar, louder now. She seemed to be getting pissed off with his attention. He heard her talking about the knife she had, a gift. He knew he shouldn't get involved; the smart move was to just stay out of it and mind his own fucking business. That is what had got him to where he was so far and would probably get him through the night alive.

"Listen son, I think the lady here is fine as she is." Peppers looked at Gill in surprise. Gill was pretty surprised himself; he hadn't meant to get involved. He knew what the smart thing to do was.

Peppers turned to face him, taking his attention off the woman. His pearly white teeth no long smiled but flashed dangerous behind a snarl. Gill leaned in close to him and continued, his voice low "Nobody asked me, I know. Nobody at all. And probably nobody gives two shits what I've got to say either. Fine. Good for them. But the way I figure it, the lady here has something in her pocket. Maybe that's a cross she's clutching too tightly. Fine. No fucking problem. But maybe it's a knife. Maybe's it's the same knife that ripped out that girl's throat outside. She says it’s got no blood on it. Fine I believe her. But best to keep everything nice and quiet I reckon. Relaxed. Aye?"

Gill T. Ascharged pulled back, disgusted with himself. He always knew the smart thing to do. The problem was, like his father had always said to him, he was never that smart. He should have stayed drinking, he thought to himself as the two guests looked at him.

It was awkward now yes very awkward. There wasnt much he could really do. The young girl held the knife in hand but both of them knew it wasnt a knife that could stop a grown man from killing her. His hands falling to his side his smile was shown with a slight breeze of irritablity.

Thats fine then. I guess it could be somewhat useful if the killer had a reason to grab you. Now there is one thing i am quite unsure of though Ima And thats this, If you are so sure you dont care about what people think, why does the knife stay in your pocket to me that only means you have something to hide. Then again i guess we all have something we our hiding right?

He smiled but the confusion was set like stone in her face. He rushed to easen her thoughts.

Why else would we be wearing masks is what i am saying. Any how im going to get some fresh air if you care to join me outside. We are two good friends so i think you can trust me.

She didnt join him at first but he expected her to join him in a moment or two. It wasnt safe to be alone in a room where people did not really know each other. The man in the red and yellow mask looked out over the ocean and sighed as he was seemingly nervous about staying on the boat. He wished he could be away from it already all the stress and irritation. Everyone second guessing everyone and still nothing.

I wonder...

No one noticed that The bartender was still not back from the restroom. What was his name uh mario, luigi, ron burgandy? No none of those seemed right. Looking back he saw Egwene walking clear across the room with an entirely new motive. She seemed like a woman with drive and a woman on the hunt. Not even the killer could stop her if he wanted to.

A few moments later Gill Was outside with the man in the red and yellow mask. It was an awkward silence. He seemed to be a little on the paranoid sign when he was around the "mr. incognito" as Ima called him. The laugh came out from his barrel sized chest.

Dont worry Gill im a good guy, just like you right?

The man in the red and yellow mask was at ease. Gill seemed a bit nervous about that. How could he not be at ease it was a beautiful night. If anyone else would be dead it would have seemed to happen already would it not? Yes so there didnt seem a reason to be nervous soon the boat would arrive and the police would search everyone and then theyd find Ima with a knife.

IMA

He forgotten about his little terrified friend. He shouted her name before he ran into the hall looking around for her. She was no where to be seen. She didnt stay where he last spoke with her. Egwene was walking around the hall he wondered if she had seen Ima go out of the room or something. Stopping Egwene he muttured to her.

Egwene Egwene have you seen Ima Goner</strong?

Gill and Peppers had gone outside to carry on the conversation, it had gotten heated and for awhile Gill thought it may come to blows. Bracing himself for the conflict, Gill tensed.

"Don't worry Gill, I'm a good guy, just like you right?" Peppers joked without humour. He seemed at ease, casual and...content. Gill didn't like that, not one bit, but he wasn't about to get himself killed for anyone, so he just smiled back at Peppers. Gill had a horrible smile and it always felt alien on his face, haunted and vacant. It was a lifeless thing, lacking the joy and the happiness that it should. A skull's smile, the dead showing their teeth. Peppers didn't seem to like the look of it either and he turned away disgusted and headed back into the hall.

Gill puffed out his cheeks and let go of the breath he'd been holding. "Still alive" he muttered to himself, under his breath at Peppers' retreating back. What had he been thinking, getting himself involved in this? It had nothing to do with him and he sure as shit wasn't going to be able to stop the murderer. Still, he had done the right thing, something that he hadn't done for a long time and that felt good. He took a few minutes to savour the night before wandering back inside, pushing open the doors of the hall. He managed a single shocked breath, just as his foot crossed over the barrier between the outer deck and the polished wood of the lounge, before the world imploded.

The man with the cigar had a gun in his hand and Peppers was wrestling with him. Two guests lay on the floor, bullet wounds to the chest as blood pooled around them. Cigar, as Gill called him, head butted Peppers, sending him staggering backwards and levelled the gun at him. The young woman who Peppers had been hitting on screamed, the gun fired and Peppers fell back anguished. He tried to reach for Cigar again, but didn't have chance. Peppers hit the floor and grunted. It was seemed funny to Gill, that amidst all the noise, the screaming and the deafening shout of the bullet, that he could still hear Peppers faint exhale of breath.

"No!" The woman with the knife from earlier screamed, Cigar pointed at another guest and fired, before turning the gun on her. His eyes were wild. He'd lost whatever calm he had before and for a moment Gill got a horrible, brief look at himself. He saw what it could be like for him if he didn't find another way to fill the void in his life. It stirred him into action and he charged at Cigar. He pointed the gun at Gill, surprised, but too slowly.

"Fucker." Gill snarled as he barrelled into him, forcing them both onto the floor. Cigar sprawled and their limbs tangled, the gun flying out of his grip. Gill punched him hard in the face, feeling his wrist crunch at the impact. He grimaced and hit him again, gaining the upper hand in the struggle. Cigar flailed, but Gill managed to push himself on top of him and wrap one of his calloused hands around his throat. He squeezed and spat, his anger at himself boiling over into hatred for the other man. Strength filled his arm and he pressed harder still into Cigar's windpipe. His eyes bulged, his arm battered helplessly against Gill's shoulder, weaker. Then weaker again. Then not at all.

"He's dead." Gill looked up, shocked. Egwene pulled him up by the arm; she was looking at him, concerned. They all were now, all the guests. They had that look in their eye, like they had just seen behind the curtain and none of them liked one bit what they saw. Beneath the quiet exterior, beneath the drink and the stupor, they had seen what was hidden away within Gill. He was a killer. He was a man who had killed other men. And women. His wife. His own daughter. The guilt and the self-loathing rushed back to him as brushed Egwene's arm off. He coughed, he felt like he drowning under the stares of the other guests. He staggered away and pushed through them. He stumbled outside onto the deck.

He stood against the rail of the Riverboat for a long time. He felt the tears come and he felt them go. He was racked with sobs, and then just drained from them. He'd killed someone. He had vowed never to do that again, not after Amy. Not after he'd killed her, his only daughter. He needed a drink. It was still too raw and he didn't know how to deal with the memories.

"Thanks. You know, for that" Gill spun on his heel, startled by the voice. He turned and saw the young woman from earlier standing behind him, the one who Peppers had hassled. He hadn't noticed her arrive next to him.

"Er, it's alright." Gill replied, stumbling the words out in his confusion.

"You didn't need to do that." She said, moving close to Gill. Too close for friendly conversation. "I thought I was dead." She whispered.

"Well, you know...that's what anyone woulda done I guess" Gill managed to answer, feeling her presence in front of him and feeling all the more flustered for it. He appeared to have killed his ability to speak to women along with Cigar. His felt the familiar tendrils of self disgust settle across his soul.

"No. Thank you, I mean it. I might have died." She was looking at him awful funny now. It wasn't what she was doing, but what she wasn't. She held herself back, collected, poised. The pervious anxiety and nerves that she had felt from Peppers had vanished. She didn't even seem too worried about nearly catching a bullet from Cigar either, now that Gill came to think of it. She seemed all together too...fine.

"Not to worry, Miss." Gill smiled and eased himself away from the rail and put a little distance between them. Nothing too obvious, but nothing too subtle either. He'd learned not to have your back up against the wall if you could help it. He cast a quick glance around the rest of the deck - deserted. He sighed to himself. This was the last thing he wanted.

"What did you say your name was?" She asked him, staring into his eyes. He noticed her hand in her pocket. It was clutched tight around something. He felt his skin break out in goose bumps. He was scared and surprised. Scared that this woman was about to kill him and surprised that he gave a shit.

"Gill. Gill T. Ascharged." He answered, his voice going hard as he took a step away from her. No disguising that, he thought to himself, better not to get stuck than to be clever. His old instincts were in control again now. That was the problem with trying to be a different man, a better man - when times got hard, you can only be what you are. Gill wasn't a better man, he was hard and cold. He was a killer as much as Cigar, more probably. More than this woman too, come to think of it.

"Where are you going?" She asked, a coy smile breaking out onto her face. Her lip twitched and she put her free hand on her hip. "What, this?" She laughed as she pulled the knife from her pocket with her other hand. "This is nothing." She chuckled, rolling the hilt across her delicate palm. It was small, but there was no doubting fine point of the blade and the ruthless edge. Gill watched her as she rocked it backwards and forwards in her hand. Red droplets began to fall across her hand from the motion of the dagger.

"Right you are." He said, not taking his eyes off her. He took another step towards the door, back into the hall. She took another step after him. Closing the gap between them again. He might be stronger than her, but at this distance he would undoubtedly get prodded a few times before he overwhelmed her. He didn't fancy the odds of that. Men generally don't survive several knife thrusts to the guts.

"Why don't you put that knife away Miss and we'll head back inside. Nice and casual like. I'll forget I ever saw it at all." Gill offered, smiling a smile he didn't feel. It still felt alien on his face and she frowned at him. If Gill T. Ascharged was anything, he was a charmer.

"No. I don't think so, I like the fresh air." She took a deep breath of it. Gulping it in. "Twisted liked the fresh air too." She whispered almost to herself. Gill looked at her, seeing the veneer fade away. The frightened girl, the innocent victim - all an act. Just like the masque itself, a deception.

"Now she is at peace. Forgiven for her sins." Now she looked at him. Right into his eyes, an intensity there, a zealous fervour burning into him. "Tell me Gill, did you daughter like the night air?" She smiled as she asked the question. She had a light lilt to her voice, she could have been asking about the his dinner plans as easily as his dead daughter.

"What?" He asked surprised, forgetting for a moment that she was close to killing him.

"Your daughter. Amy, wasn't it?"She probed.

"Aye. Amy." Gill grunted, remembering. "She used to love the stars." Amy had loved to stay up late, looking wide eyed at the sky. No more though.

"Why did you kill her, Gill? Your precious daughter?" She asked. Stepping next to him. Gill didn't move. She was close now, almost hugging him. He could smell her, the soft scent of her perfume was in his nostrils. She reached out her hand and placed it on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He could feel the delicate warmth of her skin, pressing against him. His mouth was against her ear. He whispered to her.

"'Fuck do you care?" Gill asked. He felt the blade of the knife press into him. He sighed.

"I got called to do a job. Just another job, I was told. An address and a family who needed to be put down. I didn't ask questions, I never did; probably how I ended up with the job in the first place. I got to the house, some piece of shit, run down terrace in a bad neighbourhood. It was easy to get inside, whoever lived here was too stupid to care about locking the door. I went upstairs and I heard them fucking. I remember...smiling to myself, thinking that I could make as much noise as I wanted and they wouldn't hear. I pushed open the bedroom door and..." Gill trailed off.

"And what Gill..." She urged him on. He felt the prod of the knife against his belly again. "And...what..." For the first time he heard the hatred in her voice. He heard it in his own.

"And...and...I went in. Only, they hadn't been fucking. They had been...raping them. Two of them. Two of the motherfuckers. They had been...raping her, my wife. My daughter too. Both of them. I remember their faces as I came in...nothing. My wife didn't look up, she didn't make a sound as I shot the bastard who had his dick in her. She didn't cry out, she didn't even move as I punched the other one in the face. Again. And again. And again."

"Then what happened. Then what did you do Gill" She snarled into his ear, her anger hot and loud in his skull.

"I screamed...I yelled; I killed. I punched them. I smashed their faces into the floor. I stamped on them, I broke my hand against them. Only...I'd put the gun down. On the bed. I..I didn't know. Oh, God." Gill's voice cracked.

"Your wife picked up the gun..." She continued in his ear. "She picked up the gun and she shot your daughter with it. She shot her with it didn't she Gill?" The words merciless in his ear, he couldn't escape them as he relived the night in his mind. Just like he always did. Just like he always would. Only instead of drowning out the scene with booze, she was forcing him on, forcing him to see it all over again, fresh as when it first happened.

"Stop." He whispered, but she didn't hear him.

"After you killed your daughter, you watched as your wife turned the gun on herself." She was shouting at him now, deafening him with her poison in his ear, but he didn't move. Couldn't move. "You killed them both Gill. You killed them." Her voice dropped back to a whisper. "You killed them and I'm here to forgive you." There was no hatred in it now. It was soothing, comforting like a lover’s."I tried to forgive Harry, but he wouldn’t let me. He pulled out the gun, but you’ll let me Gill. Forgive you I mean, like I forgave Twisted for her gambling. Like I forgave InnocentBitch for her greed." She pulled back the knife. “I forgive you."

"No." Gill muttered to himself.

"No." That wasn't how it had been. That wasn't the way it had happened.

"No." But it didn't matter now.