As you are all brought out of the hold, you start chanting, as if for yourself, that "Bollywood got it right, music is key" and that "what may not be shown in plain sight may be hidden in songs". You repeat it all the way to the deck, in the general indifference. Now that all of you have spread out, you stay alone under the drizzle, unable to tell whether anyone else aboard understands your language. And hoping to get an answer on this next time...

This time, you won't offer him a chance to get lost on the deck. You've chosen a small storage room in the corridor between the hold and the deck, where you are sure to see them all. As the hold is being evacuated by the crew, you wait in the shadows, and let the shaken, chaotic crowd pass in front of you, pushed and barked at by the staff. Grabbing the right arm at the right time, pulling him inside, and throwing him in a corner, turns out easy. The rest is what you do best. You shut the hatch as he stands back up, and smash him back into the corner when he opens his mouth. In shock, he doesn't oppose much resistance, and you make him pay for the frustration of that other night, as he curls up under your strikes.

When you're done, you open the door, and leave through the now empty corridor. Now this is how that other night looked like. And this is what the next night will look like. You look forward to meet again the same person, in the same circumstances. You love the look in their eyes when they recognise you the second time...

<Vitek has been roleblocked (x1)>

You realise that you haven't escaped wars and killings yet, but at least you are in your environment then. You will end this, your way.

Once outside on the deck, you start looking for your chosen target, but he's nowhere to be seen. A bit confused, as you are quite sure of having left the hold with him when the ship's crew had evacuated you all, you decide to backtrack into the boat. Then you spot him, indeed strangely lagging behind. As he slowly walks towards the exit, leaning on the railway, you pass him casually. He doesn't pay attention to you. In a movement rendered automatic by your experience, you slip behind him, and slit his throat open before he can react. He gargles and falls without any resistance.

Well, that was easy. With no one in sight, you continue your way, closing your pocket knife, and without look back. Suppressed memories come back in waves, but you know now that it's still way to early to try forgetting your previous life.

<You have murdered Vitek.>

As you are all expelled from the hold, you hear someone mutter a strange song in urdu. "Bollywood got it right, music is key. What may not be shown in plain sight may be hidden in songs." You're trying to see who said that, and wondering what it could mean, when a large hand brutally pulls you out of the crowd, and throws you into a dark storage room. A large threatening figure overshadows you, as you hear all the other voices and footsteps receed in the distance, including the mysterious repeated song.

Now alone with the giant, you get up, and open your mouth to protest, but it gets painfully slammed shut by an immense fist, as your head hits painfully the metal wall behind you. Another fist hits you in the belly, and, as you double up, you realise that it is just the beginning. The next few minutes are a chaotic hell of relentless strikes, leaving you bewildered and trembling, curled on the floor. In a fog of pain, it takes you time to realise that they have ceased, and that your aggressor has left. And even more time to get back up, and to stumble back out in the corridor.

Disoriented, leaning on the handrail, you try to find your way out to the deck, stopping your progression with a fright each time somebody walks by, and feeling a bit ashamed by that reflex. You only manage to control yourself when a child passes by.

Which means that, when that kid expertly slits your throat open, you really don't see it coming. You crumble on the floor, in a widening pond of blood, as your chaotic thoughts finish dissolving.

<You have been killed.>

Once outside, you follow your target at a significant distance, paying more attention to the people around than to his own possible activities, and letting room for anyone to approach him or follow him without noticing you. You may have lost sight of him sometimes, but always in places and situations where you would have noticed anyone else going after him. You notice nothing unusual there.

<Nobody had targetted CSPVG for any kind of action during this night.>

Once the crew has evacuated the hold, and cleaned up the mess, you exploit the opportunity to go rummage a bit through the passengers' meager luggages. One, especially. The black kid. You're not expecting to find anything interesting, but maybe an indication of who may be awaiting him, or may have funded his journey. That's the danger, with children - they're not always as autonomous or isolated as grown-ups, and this may be a problem for the enterprise.

Well, his case turns out different. No toys, dolls, or music cassette in his bag. No letters either. Just some worn out khaki clothes, a military compass, dark green spare shoelaces. Not exactly what you'd have expected to find.

You're checking the size of the clothes, indeed rather small, when you hear the ruckus of agitated people coming back. You put it all back in the bag, and leave, as the crew escorts the passengers back into the hold.

This turns out quite easy. As the captain, you send a crewmember to invite him for a discreet discussion at the ship's bow. He arrives, nervously checking around him for other presences. This makes it even easier. As he announces that you're alone, you shake your head, and point somewhere behind him. Of course, he immediately turns around to check. Your wrench hits his skull hard enough for him to fall on his knees, half-stunned. Dizzy, he vaguely gesticulates as you pull him up and topple him over the railing. You hardly hear him hit the water. There is almost no blood on the wrench. No traces. It is as if that guy hadn't ever existed. As far as you're concerned, that's the case.

Yet not the case of his money, of course.

You go back to your cabin, quite satisfied with the whole enterprise in general.

<DarkoD13 has been nightkilled>

Your investigation on his background takes some time, but you conclude that he has no possible interest in the current series of killings. You're just not sure what to do with that info, and where to share it.

A crewmember informs you that the captain himself wishes to have a word with you, in private. And this may be a good opportunity to discuss your investigations, away from suspicious ears. You join him alone on the deck, at the ship's bow. He's awaiting you. He seems as nervous as you, looking around for possible eavesdroppers. You tell him that, as far as you can tell, you're both alone and sufficiently far from the others. He shakes his head, and points somewhere behind you. You turn around.

The shock on your head doesn't make you lose consciousness entirely. Incapacitated, you can still feel yourself lifted, and falling overboard. The water is icy. You're too stunned to fight the waves, and, gasping, you just gesticulate inefficiently against the passing hull, until the ship's aft reaches you, and the propellers' whirlpool swallows you for good.

<You have been nightkilled.>

This time, THIS time you will have your moment. Forget about the former night, and the unfortunate series of event that frustrated you from a mighty brawl. That other guy will pay for two.

You get out of your cabin, elegantly ducking through the too small door, and walk towards hold entrance, where you spot your target easily. You follow him through the unuspecting little crowd, without bumping any shoulder, until he turns alone into a different corridor. Conveniently, he's going in a direction that will make it even easier. You just cut through another passageway, to where you know that you'll be able to intercept him. There, just waiting for him behind a corner, you light one cigarette that you had found miraculously intact in your pants, and wait, enjoying it, and anticipating the victim's surprise when you'll jump at him from this place.

He's not coming.

Okay, everything is fine, there is no reason why he would have suddenly backtracked, and even if he did, you have a whole night to find him. Too bad for the nice surprise pounce, you enter the corridor to go find him. Well, there he is, alone, casually sitting against the wall.

His throat slit.

His already dead eyes are staring at you, blank, not impressed at all. Confused and uneasy, vaguely frustrated, you promtly leave, hoping even more that nobody spotted you there.