ProgArchives Mafia: The Merriweather Murder

Night 3

Steven Wilson peered out into the darkness through a window in ProgArchives record store. It was time once again; he had to find the individual whom he thought most worthy to save for the following day. He walked around the store until he eventually found the person he was looking for: nutella23. He approached her about his offer and she was pleased. “Sure, I’ll go.” They took his car and arrived at the safe house in the valley within a matter of about an hour.

“Make yourself at home!”, said Steven, “You can sleep in the guest room tonight and I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Good night!”

The alarm sounded at 8:15AM the following morning. Steven Wilson got up out of bed and prepared for his daily morning swimming. He ate a quick breakfast and made sure to leave the house without waking up his guest. He arrived at the swim club and was somewhat surprised to see no one else there. It was never packed in the morning, but he did usually see a few people walking around. Nevertheless, he changed into his swim gear and headed to the pool for a relaxing swim.

He dove into the pool and immersed his body in the water. There was no other experience quite as cathartic in the morning as a swim, he thought. In about twenty minutes, he saw the door open and an individual yelled to him, “Blatoepysustain!” Steven couldn’t really hear him or make out what he was saying but responded, “Sure, you can join! There’s enough room for another.”

Damo Suzuki cannonballed his way into the pool, creating a huge splash of water, having left his sport bag outside the pool. Eventually, Steven decided to take a break and relax in one of the chairs; moments after, Damo took the opportunity to leave the pool and search through his sport bag, quickly finding a crossbow. He continued to seem like he was looking through the bag for about fifteen seconds until Steven decided he would get up to dive back into the pool. As Steven walked toward the diving board, Damo took out his crossbow from the bag, aimed for his target, and Steven Wilson’s eyes widened with fear nanoseconds before his demise.

Triceratopsoil’s body was pierced right through the heart. Damo walked over, smiled, and kicked the corpse into the pool. The blood gradually spread throughout the water in the pool, transforming the color to an ominously dark red.

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Meanwhile, Kurt Cobain was out on killing duty tonight for the first time. He roamed the streets until he found the house of his target. He rang the doorbell. Zebedee answered the door. “Hello. How may I help you?”

Kurt Cobain kicked Zebedee right in the balls and then proceeded to strangle him. Zebedee struggled but it was no use. His last few moments were excruciatingly unpleasant as he suffocated.

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Robert Fripp was on yet another silencing mission. He spotted DisgruntledPorcupine in the hallways of the record store and called out to him, “Hey, you!”

DisgruntledPorcupine turned around and saw Robert Fripp. Fripp handed him a CD, “Listen to this when you get home.” “Awesome, thanks!”

Expecting awesome music, DisgruntledPorcupine blasted the CD on his stereo when he arrived home, only to find out that it was a Merzbow CD at an extremely high modified volume. He thought he couldn’t hear anything, but found out when talking to a colleague on the phone that he couldn’t speak.

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