The Town of Salem

Blackmailer

Alignment:
Mafia (Support)

Abilities:
Choose one person each night to blackmail.

Attributes:
Blackmailed targets can not talk during the day.
If there are no kill capable Mafia roles left you will become a Mafioso.
You can talk with the other Mafia at night.

Goal:
Kill anyone that will not submit to the Mafia.

A young man sat alone at his desk, rubbing the cut-down stubble on his chin as his eyes glazed over the blank screen. He could hear whispers. He had the talent and ability to search any information he pleased. He could gather a plethora of top-secret information in a matter of seconds. But tonight, he could not find the motivation.

His house was very simple. He did not have a clock, for it would interfere with his expertise. He did not keep any form of entertainment, such as a music player or a television. His living room consisted only of his desk, which held his computer, a cup of pens and pencils, and a pad of paper. There he would sit for hours on end, gathering information to store away in the file cabinet underneath the desk. But tonight, he could not find the motivation.

The man pulled out his chair, his muscles aching as he turned to crack his back. The sound echoed throughout the house, causing him to twitch with agitation as he stood.

He took his time in stepping towards the front windows, tiptoeing to prevent more noise echoing through his house. He was trained to keep his movements minimal and stealth-like, the Mafia intolerable towards any mistakes.

He remained in the shadows as he gazed out, allowing his mind to wander away from his daily task of listening. He heard no whispers tonight, the town eerily quiet.

He could hear the clocktower in the town square ringing out, signifying that midnight had finally arrived. He felt his toe tapping quietly, his fingers fidgeting in his pockets as he stared out. He felt something. He felt as though something was there. There may not have been whispers that night, but there was something.

The young man was unable to control his gasp as a young woman wandered into town, her face bright as she admired the surroundings. He felt himself rushing heavily towards his paper, but he didn't care. Something about this girl told him that he needed to be quick.

He hurried to return to the shadows, his pen shaking as he wrote every single feature of the girl. Her face was etched into his mind, racing to write down whatever crossed him as she disappeared into the first house. His mouth was left slightly open, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards his desk.

He had found his motivation.