The barkeep junker has been at this for a long time. He has seen everything imaginable, or so he thought. However, witnessing the unfolding of tribalism before his very eyes is something new to add to the list. It seems Mr. Johnson's gathering is not going as smoothly as planned. Apparently they are all here to research some hidden flat earth map. Rumors have been floating about that there may be something on the order of spies among this batch of guests. It all sounds rather like rubbish to junker, but they can get along as they like.
Then, the strangest and scariest thing junker has ha experienced happened. Mr. Johnson gathered his party in the lounge to formalize these rumors and confirm their veracity. Mr. Johnson has instructed everyone not to move as he walked over to have a private chat with the bartender.
"Absolutely not!" junker loudly exclaimed. Mr. Johnson gesticulated violently for junker to tone it down. junker is rather skilled in taking care of himself, but something is not right about this situation, so he follows along. After another minute or so of whispers, Mr. Johnson returns to his group. He announces to them all that he has enlisted the help of a private security team to ensure all of his invitees do not leave the premises while this matter is sorted out. To attempt to flee would result in death, the bartender no exception. In an interesting turn of events, Mr. Johnson explains to his group that he will not personally take part in the flushing out of any potential spies. He is going to retreat to his room, which he has taken the liberty to have incredibly secured, while the group sorts this out. Once they bring him proof of the result, business can continue as usual. Until then, the normal research schedule is on hold. On a brighter note, the bar will stay open for the duration of this little investigation since it has been paid in advance. They may also travel to and from their rooms and along the grounds of the property, being reminded what will happen should they attempt to escape. Mr. Johnson then bids his group adieu and exits the lounge, surrounded by some of the aforementioned security team.
There is a brief moment of silence among the group, caused by shock and disbelief. This can't be real, it has to be some sort of sick game. However, the group eventually realizes that this is in fact very real, and some of the people they had been becoming friendly with started plotting on how to deal with this mess and get out of this alive.
The heat and isolation may have been getting to everyone, as they established a system where they would vote on the most likely spy and put them to death. Mr. Johnson had made it known that any method was acceptable and there would be no external interference. The barkeep could do nothing but watch it unfold as he had no method to communicate to the outside world. His safety was also guaranteed as long as he didn't interfere, so he decided to just play his part in this bizarre unfolding of events.
In what seemed to be a rather short amount of time, the group held a vote on who gets the axe, somewhat literally. Jane racked up the votes in an incredibly quick manner, and it was confirmed that she would be put to death in front of his very eyes.
Now that the vote had taken place, there was the matter of who was going to execute Jane, and how. This proved to take a rather long time, as no one was a murderer as far as the group was aware. Dead silence prevailed for what seemed an eternity, and was then was snapped away by calamity. Everyone looked up as it sounded like the barkeep had dropped a glass and it shattered. However, everyone quickly noticed Stash pacing menacingly toward Jane, with the remnants of a broken beer bottle in his hand. Stash decided to take the matter into his own hands and quickly plunged the jagged glass into the side of Jane's neck, instantly severing her carotid. She bled out very quickly. The bartender announced to the group that they could use his cleaning supplies, but this needed to be cleaned up immediately. There was a trash incinerator in a building out back that could be used to prevent the godawful smells involved with decomposition.
Jane, a villager, is dead.
It is now night.
Psychic, send me your scan.
Penguin Mac, send me your scan or kill.
NASA agent Charlie, send me your scan or kill.