A strange feeling has settled over this fair city. Doors are barricaded, and portals barred, against something more than the cold Siberian wind that howls through the arched walkways and rattles windowpanes. Those few out in the streets pull their coats tightly around themselves and hurry along, thinking of little bar safety and shelter from the cold, dark night, and the terrible things that stalk within it. Brave men jump at shadows, and seek warmth and protection in the company of friends, but conversation is leaden, a deep-rooted fear suffusing everything. Some make as if to hide from the threat, but inside all know the truth... that there can be no hiding, and no protection, from that which lies everywhere and everywhen.
Yet there are those few who have the wisdom to see that there is perhaps one way to weather the breaking storm, and the strength to set themselves on that path — for though down there lies safety, of a sort, and great glory, each carries the certain knowledge that only one person may follow this path to its true denouement. In order to accomplish his victory, he must put away trust and friendship, and turn against those who would try to stop him, those who desire this same end for themselves. In order to survive, he must embrace the darkness, live in the shadows, prey upon his own predators. He must become that which would hunt him. He must become an assassin. He must become the assassin.
Recently published reports in the Fortean Times periodical tell the strange story of Jenny "The Essex Girl" Whitten. An eye-witness writes:
Well when the clock struck eight she just sort of like collapsed in on herself in a really like far out way and turned into this wierd thing that might be a black hole because it was black and kind of like a hole only with nothing at the other end except sparkling starry things and then the giant spiders came and aaaaagh get that syringe away from me... <thunk>
Police are treating the case as unsuspicious. Chief Sniper comments:
"Oh we get that kind of thing all the time, it's nothing to worry about. Well... the spiders do pose a problem occassionally, but we can handle it. There is no reason for alarm. Move along, there's nothing to see here."
The daring assassin "Maverick" caught Dan James "Burns" Jane only three minutes into the game. It certainly hasn't been Burns' Night tonight.
James Jane has just died due to the fact that I shot him multiply times in the chest and head (cap gun). He died at 8:03pm, a possible nomination for the lemming award I think. Having loitered outside his college I made my way to his room at 8pm, I was greeted by a voice saying it's open I walked in and shot him. At which point he lay dying on the floor and is last words were "Oh shit it has gone 8pm".
A minor necromantic ceremony yielded the following from the deceased:
I'm dead. The hints are surprisingly advanced rigor mortis, a REALLY bad hair day and a dry cleaning bill with anti-tank calibre. It happened so quickly my life didn't even have time to flash before my eyes, which was a shame because I was looking forward to the notorious hamster incident from a second person perspective. But enough of such jollities - the kill:
Just as I'd sat down to start a particularly good self cooked meal [omelette, I'm still learning] there was a knock on my door. 'Come in' I said. The door opened. In came my good friend Maverick. Without saying a word he shot me twice in the temple, unforgiving, inhuman, but at least sorting out my multiple personality disorders. Not that I had time to enjoy the frontal lobotomy, or even time to think 'bugger, is it 2000h already?'. I was a goner. Adieu.. adieu... adieu...
Burns is now a Robert Peeler.
An assassination attempt was made on "Ich will sterben, Je veux mourir, Quiero morir" by "Lloyd", but the target failed to live up to his name's promise...
This evening, two unidentified men entered Christs college by the back door. Finding themselves confromted by a locked door, they conversed with a resident who foolishly allowed them entrance to the staircases, despite obvious security measures.
I knocked on the door of Ich will sterben, Je veux mourir, Quiero morir. When he answered, looking flustered, and in the middle of a 'phone call, I shot at him with my trusty snub-nosed revolver. He staggered back into the room, attempting vainly to push the door closed, I reached around the door and emptied my gun, as my accomplice maintained pressure against the wood. Fearing that the sound of unsilenced gunfire would alert passers by, we walked swiftly back the way we had come. For a light dinner.
love and kisses,
This is how the target explains his failure to die:
it is always nice to meet new people, but not so when they don't have the manners "le savoir vivre" to introduce themselves before attempting to do their job, quite lamely as you would expect from beginners they were not quick enough to shoot me despite my opening the door quite largely, when my mistake struck me I had the pavlovian reflex to kneel while physically insisting on the door being closed, the lame assassin had enough time to fire his (naked) gun a few time before the criminal arm was cut halfway when the door closed.
Please Mr lame assassin come back, now my CPS is fully loaded ready to smoke you turkey.
"VANGO" tried to gas "SvenskMoose", but failed.
at 23:13 on the evening of this Thursday 25th january, an attempt was made by me, VANGO, to kill SvenskMoose. armed with a can of highly poisonous "adidas sport body spray" and a kleenex gas mask, i knocked on my target's door and stood erect against the wall, wary of his peephole in the door. whether he was sleeping or just afraid of his soon-to-be-ended life would explain his delay in opening the door. the victim exclaiming "who is it?" and opening the door fractionally, chain still on, i sprayed the poison through the crack, replying "a friend". there is indeed controversy as to whether he smelt the fumes- highly potent- and as such i am reporting an attempted murder. his body may be lying cold in his room.
It appears that moose are quite difficult to kill:
There was a knock on the door. Slowly, I removed myself from my plans for world domination (playing Civilisation) and glanced at the security monitor (little glass thing in door). The coast appeared to be clear but apearences can be deceptive. Cautiously I grasped my trusy weapon in my right hand. "Who is it?" I demanded as I pulled the door open the smallest crack (well, about an inch). The response I got told me all I needed to know. "A friend" said a voice I didn't recognise at all. All I knew was that it was lying.
The door shut as if it were on the tube train you weren't quite sure if you were going to make or not.
Time ticked slowly by and in a fit of bravado, gun in each hand and gas mask (handkerchief) on my face just to be on the safe side, I launched myself into the transport column (corridor) outside. It was deserted save for the (not actually that) dim flourescent lighting. The would-be assasain had gone and leaving only the words DIE BOY DIE on my communications panel (sheet of paper stuck to door for messages to be left on).
It takes more cunning than an A-Class Mercedes to topple the Moose.
"Delirium" has even more reasons for being paranoid now:
Two nasty nasty suspicious dark-clad men lurked waited outside in the night, so they say.....neighbours worried suspicious......easily evade to get in but who who are they waiting for?
Next on Maverick's list was the somewhat more paranoid "Beakachu". Says the assassin:
I tried to kill another target, but he wouldn't answer his door even when i answered his question "who is it" with "me". However i have left a note in his p'hole informing him i will be back. I will get him though.
The target reports from the bathroom:
Someone came knocking on Beackachu's door,
An evil assassin? I'm not quite sure
I asked who it was, who could it be?
A dullard's voice replied "T'is only me"
While Beakachu squats upon his throne-
A gilded toilet carved in stone-
May all you infidels understand,
His wizened form still troubles the land...
"Trezzer" has done away with Paul "Ribena" Hickford, in whose own blood he this message wrote...
Much has happened in the way of lectures and life. But now I can tell of my darkest deeds...
The night was dark and wild when I recieved my targets' details. I decided that it was best to waste no time, and so left my room, which I knew was no longer safe, to stalk the dangerous streets of Cambridge. Sadly, my target had obviously had the same idea, as when I finally discovered which of John's numerous D staircases belonged to him he was not present. Still, I scouted the area, took note of the peephole in his door, and innocently engaged his neighbour in conversation. I learnt much in that talk, not only about the man whose name is written on my knifeblade, but about far larger dealings... For a plot is arising at John's the like of which has not been seen before, and I beg all those who kill with gentleman's honour to join with me in fighting this dark force...
I was luckier the following morning. Dwelling fortunately nearby to my victim, Paul Hickford, I disguised myself in dressing gown and shower cap. Knocking on his door, I knew his strong manly instincts would not allow him to refuse a maid in distress. "The tap in the bath doesn't work. Can you look at it?" Having lured him out of the sanctury of his room, I walked swiftly behind him to the shower. I could see the buldge of the gun in his dressing gown pocket, and knew at any moment my cover could be blown. He bent over the bath, and I knew the time had come. Thoughts of Psycho flashed through my head, as I imagined his blood staining the shower red, and I lifted my knife and plunged it down into his back. The adrenaline of the kill rushed through me. I looked down on his lifeless corpse, and wondered when I would kill again.
It may not be long...
Can we believe everything this assassin writes? Could there really be yet another group of conspirators in John's? Only the future will tell. The deceased has this to say:
I had been most secretive. No one round college knew that I was an assassin. That was, until too close to home received my name as a target. But all this was unknown to me.
It was early in the morning, and I was half awake contemplating having to get out of bed. And I heard someone fiddling with my door. My suspicions were aroused; was someone planning to burst in and massacre me in my bed? If they were, the door was locked so they departed. Some time later I got out of bed and headed for the shower. Armed. To the teeth. (A dressing gown is great for concealing weapons). As I reached the shower I saw the afore mentioned person from my corridor just leaving. She mentioned that the shower was playing up, and called upon my bloke instinct to mend stuff. Having "mended" the shower the previous day I knew that all was needed was the scientists most valuable tool; brute force! So, half asleep and driven by my fixing instinct I entered the confined space of the bathroom. And was stabbed in the back.
At least trezzer was a considerate enough butcher. My dressing gown is red, so no problem with blood stains. And I fell into the bath, so my blood would drain away with the minimum of mess.
The coroners report is in. Time of death, 8:00 am (ungodly hour, exactly 12 hours after the game started). Cause of death, a single stab wound to the back.
Rise again, Ribena, and rise as PC Ribena. This from the leadership of the police force:
"Welcome Officer Ribena to the C.U.P.D.... Is this mayhaps the beginning of a new Kenny Award?"
The mysterious "Shadow" attacked "Tom Chacko" with perfect timing.
Successful Kill Account:
Death instantaneous by Cap gun.
Time of Death 8:45am Friday 26th
Conveniently being in the area the night before I conducted preliminary reconnaissance and arrived at the victims door at 8:42 this morning. I hoped that the early attempt would find him vigilantly protecting himself as this my first kill attempt had been carefully planned and I wanted a challenge.
I was expecting to shoot him as he went for lectures after my research team had identified him on an e-mail list of part 1A nat scis. His room was the easiest to watch being separated from three others I waited in the utility area around the corner from his door.
I realised the area had further entrances I tried to reduce the chance of detection when I heard a noise and returned to my previous spot passing the target. On realising the targets door was now ajar I turned and challenged him, unarmed and trapped the kill was inevitable.
The umpires advise against leaving your door open when unarmed. Speaks the victim:
This morning, I was murdered with indecent ease: as I crawled from my
room in search of water, ten minutes before a lecture, I was hailed.
Answering to my name, I was shot.
Tom has joined the Police Force.
This rather cryptic report came in from "bh234":
bh234 found a bomb on his door this morning. On it was a note, reading as follows:
5idn3y m4f14 0wn5 y0u - from The Great SFX
Thankfully whoever put the thing there appeared to have neglected the fact that my door opens outwards, and thus the mechanism could not possibly have worked. Cripes, etc.
Stewart "Pikachu" Becker and his assassin Alex "Highlander" Wood took each other out.
I'm dead, but so is my assassin.
Coming back from lectures today I found a welcoming committee in my staircase. A shot was fired, but missed. Ducking in to an alcove I got my own weapon ready and fired a couple of shots, which missed but gave sufficient cover to get back into my room. Now I had my full armoury to choose from. Selecting a super-soaker I opened the door and fired. The door to the staircase was closed though. It opened and I fired. So did he. Both shots were true to thir mark. A bullet pierced my brain and my stream took out part of his upper torso, just below his shoulder.
And here is the tale of the Highlander:
For years he trained and waited for the time to test his skills against the best, Becker was to be the first. He waited in the shadows unmoving one with the dark, at last his target arrived, the angle was tight too tight, the shot struck the door frame. In that split second his target was armed and the battle continued. He never misses twice, a bullet striking right between the eyes of Becker. Just before the bullet struck home he realised in horror a bullet was heading straight for him he twisted but too late the bullet sunk into his right shoulder.
Despite a rapid hospitalisation, this hit on the torso proved fatal. However "Pikachu" had forgotten to behead his opponent and so the "Highlander" comes back to life as PC Bud White.
"VANGO" failed in yet another bid to remove "SvenskMoose".
after last night's attempted assassination, i, VANGO, tried once again to murder SwenskMoose. this time, i smeared an unassuming "johns' films" flier with poisonous vaseline and placed it strategically in his pigeon hole so that he would touch the poison and die. at last observation, the flier had gone, as has, i assume, the body of my target.
The body of the target has gone, by dint of having walked away alive:
Someone vasalined my pigeon hole. It was diffused by some ohter members of the non-existant Pembroke Mafia.
With reference to the afore-mentioned 'non-existant Pembroke Mafia', the Police Force have issued the following statement:
"The capable agents of the F&I Directorate have already been assigned to the task of investigating the possibility of a new Mafia... we expect our first reports to come in within 72 hours. Until then, we recommend that nobody approach Pembroke unless there are overriding reasons for such foolhardy behaviour."
Jehova's Witness infiltrated John's and removed Sanjay Joshi:
This very afternoon, I, Jehova's Witness, did rouse myself to venture forth into the deepest depths of John's... I did cause myself to knock upon the door of one Sanjay Joshi, who residethed within. Verily came the utterance "Come in!". Try as I might, the door budged not, appearing as it did to be locked by some arcane device... Again the voice spake forth "Hang on, I'll unlock it.", so hang I did, until before me appeared the visage of my target. Drawing my trusty weapon, I attempted to run him through - failing in this, I operated the 'trigger' on this miraculous device, and it barked forth, once, twice, thrice, and nothing lay before me but a corpse... With his dying breath, he was heard to utter: "Oh no! not again...", As so I departed once more into the 4:15 gloom that hung over Cripps lyke a miasma of horrible death...
On the way back, I called in at the room of another target which was occupied by two, neither matching his description, or answering to the name. I left, with them none the wiser...
On a personal note to "bh234"' I would emphasise that, as the above was a deliberate usage of archaic forms, rather than sheer incompetence, I will feel no remorse in shooting him repeatedly in the event of him appearing on my doorstep.
But such criminal might win you an exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime experience on the Chair of Remorse.
"Shadow" skillfully dispatched his assassin Johannes "The Editor" Nordström.
I went to see "Shadow" for er... an interview. When I got there he didn't just open his door. How rude of him. Instead he asked who it was. "It's Mike. From Varsity." I answered in a voice that I immediately recognized to be very unconvincing. So unconvincing, in fact, that I was not surprised to find that he just opened his door to shoot me.
Johannes has joined the police and Shadow is doing very well indeed:
At 5:25 this evening a knock came on my door when asked who it was they said 'Varsity'. Having no known connections to this institution and from the style of encounter I assumed it was a hostile opened the door gun first and sprayed the corridoor. My late opponent called himself Mike and said that his accomplice was one of his next targets. I don't know which college he was from but it would take a Johnian to be this underhand.
The Umpires suspect that Johnian players might feel offended by this statement, and that that might not be good for Shadow's life expectancy...
Today "Big Don" was visited by the versatile "Maverick". He reports:
At about 4.30 pm I heard a knock on my door, this was from somebody who I used to go to school with asking if I had a bicycle repair kit of all things! Needless to say I thought, hmmmm a bit suspicious refused to answer the door and went back to my computer. Half an hour later one of my neighbours knocked on my door, wanting to come in, seeing as I have a spyhole and could see him gesturing to something out of sight I decided not to open the door - Traitor. This resulted in the four people who were stood outside brandishing knives and pistols to start throwing things at my door and pretended to leave a bomb on my door, and they finally left, this was confirmwed by my friend who I called to come see if the coast was clear. I am still alive and plan to be for quite a while, although I have a feeling that I will be knifed in the not too distant future, due to the fact they asked me whether I wanted to be knifed or shot! My neighbour I am going to kill discreetly for aiding and abetting in the attempted murder of such an honest upstanding member of the community.
(Doing this would not seem advisable. You might end up on the wanted list.)
I feel I must warn you all of my brush with death as I fear that I have upset the Magdalene mafia and feel they need to be brought to justice.
Surely there can't be this many mafias. Or maybe there are... Ask the police, and you'll be told that you shouldn't leave your room anymore at all:
"Of course there are that many mafias. And several more which have not been uncovered yet. But leave that to our brave agents! Law-abiding citizens can sleep peacefully knowing that a capable team of professionals is handling the threat. Then again, I would suggest steering clear of Magdalene for a while... just because you can never be too careful, you know."
"Maverick" seems to be a mafia by himself, active as he is...
Having attempted to kill Beakachu I moved on to Big Don, only to discover
that you cannot enter his college unless you are met at the porters lodge
(after a certain time). So the next day (friday) I entered the porters
lodge and asked where this room was I was told that this room did not
exist and it was a pigeon hole number. Having emailed the umpires and
found out his real room number, I decided to pay him a visit, but before
hand I selected three acomplices (another assassin and two innocent
friends). Off we went armed to the teeth, to kill my target. The events
of which shall remain undisclosed until the kill is completed, but in
brief (without giving anything away) the target would not leave his room,
as he was suspisious due to the email from the umpires that day. So we
left having drawn a nice picture on his notice board and fired several
rounds into his door, just to let him know we me buissness. However, we
now know a great deal more about his target and therefore his lifespan is
"Delerium" sets about giving Bunyip's room a good 'pasting.
Rain came washing down, down on us mere mortals....rain rained on Pembroke... Bunyip, sad deluded one, left his door open....and will get a nasty hallucinogenic poisonous shock as soon as he gets back...and Delirium flew away into the rainy night
Alas, poor Delerium, for "Bunyip" seems to have survived... so far...
Yesterday some vile personage, entered the abode of the bunyip, the door being carelessly unlocked. Upon the return of the bunyip to the afformentioned abode, a blank blue post-it note was attactched to the door.
Suspicious as always and alerted by the strong smell of toothpaste, a thorough search revealed a deposit of white goo on the back of a cupboard handle, and a waterpistol glued to the desk. The search continues for more deposits, but the bunyip still lives.
"Jasper McKintley" delivered a slightly deranged death threat:
At around 10.30 I put a death threat in my target's pigeon hole. It reads as follows:
i know all about your little plans capitalist scum leave the country before sunday if you know whats good for you jasper ps this is a hoax
More such messages will follow.
I remain, as ever, your faithful and devoted servant.
Players: please note that such a note does not count as an attempt on your target. unless you at least contact-poison the note.
"Slaine" tried to blow up "The Deadly Fluffy Wuffy Bunnykins".
The operation was a smooth and almost too clocklike one culminating in the
positioning of 2 litres of a volatile compound outside the door of the
first on my target list, one Bunnykins
of Queens' @ approximately 0100 hours amidst a dreary cloak of darkness....
The trigger mechanism ( being a highly sophisticated motion and "trip" device) was installed and the area evacuated as rapidly as possible......
Please let me know how far the blood spreads in the blast......!
It wasn't entirely sucessful...
I, the deadly fluffy wuffy bunnykins, stumbled to my door post bop to find a bomb connected to my door, intended to take me out, when I awoke and left my building the next morning. My assassin had not taken into account the lifesaving ability of a bop. Having got suitably kitted up in my full bomb disposal gear (ie, a pair of scissors and a few other stationary items) and with the help of a friend (who is a potentially innocent victim), proceeded to cut away the detonator from the bomb. This was accomplished and then the second detonator carefully removed from under the bottle. However whence carrying away the first detonator it went BANG.
Luckily for the Bunny, the detonator wasn't attached to the explosives at this point, and so he lost only a paw. Rolf's Animal Rescue shelter were able to carry out an emergency limb transplant (having found an abandonned teddy bear paw pickled in a jar marked with the mysterious runes "bANDit") and so the Bunnykins survives.
The cunning "Pilchard" has spun a deadly scheme. The fishy one reports:
This morning I intend to leave poison letters in the pigeonholes of my targets. These letters carry a specially prepared slow-release, delayed-action poison that gives them twenty four hours to kill one of the targets I have assigned to each of them. I've arranged for the antidote to given to any that murder one of their new targets within twenty four hours. I look forward to see if any of them are poisoned, and if so, whether they manage to stay alive.
Simon "Dial Emma For Murder" Ford tried to mailbomb "The Ferret's Revenge":
You'd be a fool to touch anything in your pigeonhole, but maybe "The Ferret" is such a fool. I had decided that this vermin must be removed from this Earth... with the help of a letterbomb courtesy of yours truly, Dial Emma For Murder.
Unfortunately, the wouldbe unabomber failed to check whether the pigeonholes were labelled on their upper or their lower side, and so deposited the device in the wrong place... where an innocent found it. Luckily, the College Porters were able to clean up the mess and return what remained of the bomb to its correct place... but alas, it was too late for the now wanted Simon Ford. Maverick and The Ferret's Revenge provided this press release:
Having carefully removed the device from the pigeon hole, we noticed it had been tampered with. Having cut all the edges of the envelope away, whilst keeping pressure on it, we noticed a note from the assassin saying dial Emma for murder. There was also a folder which was obviously the bomb, initially we were going to place a stone on it and remove the stone from a distance with string. However, realising the bomb had obviously been devised by a women we thought there must be an easier way, so seeing a wire sticking out we decided to cut it. Obviously, it wasn't going to be a decoy as the female brain is not that advanced. So having the wire we opened the bomb and nothing happened.
We then returned to tell the porters we had diffused it, they then said well it has gone off once already today. The name on the envelope was obscured by the window, and it had intially been delivered to the wrong person. This person had opened it, set the bomb off and then gave it to the porters, who repacked it and left it in the pigeon hole of ferret's revenge. This is the death of an innocent and therefore this assassin should obviously be wanted, this will give us the prime opportunity to get revenge for this poor attempt.
Chief Sniper sends the following warning to his homeboys:
Looks like the criminals are getting more arty every day... this is the latest threat I've received:
weve been discovad by da police we do not like that da police gonna pay for it u #1 on da police list u gonna pay 1st freestyla Mwwwwhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!
"The Purple Lady" sucessfully knifed Matthew "The Brown Avenger" Bennett in his sleep.
It is I purple lady - overdressed, undecover, the mauve harpy, revenge in violet. Last term tragedy befell moi when I din't realise the game had started... I was summarily knifed after leaving hall a wquarter of an hour after the game's inception.
However, this term I decided things would be different - I ignored the college duties calling to me and strode out down St. John's Street, the Siberian wind reminding me of my childhood, the great palaces, the tsar's Balls.... I should have been a russian princess - now I find myself a mercenary, a soldier of fortune, selling my soul as I sold my body on the streets of Paris. I went to the foul, stinking pit of arrogance and idiocy they have the nerve to call trinity. Bennett's room was quickly located, and wilfully poorly guarded. As I walked in, it reminded me of a bordello I once worked in Macau. I ran him through with my trusy blade, the kill as impressive, unsubtle, violent and cruel as the imperial court where I belong. Full of pride, I left his body oozing into the half-light of morning, and returned to College.
Extract from 'Stab' by Mortician:
Carving the flesh
Blood spattered death
Screaming for help
No one will come
Knife blade flashing
Your life will end
Corpse is strung up
Throat is cut open
Guts spilling out
Extract from the personal log of "The Brown Avenger":
(Due to the limits of text-based media we cannot show you the actual stool extract, but we will attempt to reconstruct events based on the data found from the log.)
After a lengthy battle with my eternal foe Constipat-Or last night, I had
exhausted almost all my reserves of Brown. I was barely able to climb back
into the Brownmobile and make it into the Brown Cave alive. My relief was short
lived, though. Some demonic harpy calling herself the Purple Lady
-- though the purple of the Prune had always been my ally -- stabbed
me with a table knife while I lay 70% asleep in bed this
afternoon. Not even the FaeceShield could have saved me. And as the brown
stain on the bedsheet grows ever larger and more foul-smelling, I.....I
Having heavily armed themselves, they departed for a day's hunting. The first kill went to Maverick, who swiftly desposed of Duncan "Big Don" Shaw. In his own words:
First of all our visit to Duncan "Big Don" Shaw yesterday, having found that an innocent friend of mine new him, myself, Ferret's Revenge, and another innocent all went to pay Big Don a little visit. He didn't fall for the my friend asking to lend a bike repair kit and wouldn't answer his door so we lay in wait. Then a guy from his corridor, who by coincidence I knew, came to his door, he attempted to get him to open his door, but was seen waving to use through the peep hole. We then left a picture on his notice board and after firing several rounds into his door as a warning. Today we paid our return visit, asking the person who I knew on his corridor to gain access to his room for me. Once the door was open I burst into his room firing seven rounds from point blank range, death was instantaneous. The Ferret then fired shots into the corpse, just to emphasise our anger.
Writes the victim:
At 1400 hours I was sat chatting to my mate on the phone when my next door neighbour, bitch, knocked on my door asking to see some photos. And what with being on the phone and about to run a bath, as I had just come back from rugby training, I wasn't thinking, so just unlocked the door expecting her to come in but alas, when I had sat back down on my chair three people ran in and shot me with a cap gun in the head. My friend on the phone was quite suprised that I had died on him, but didn't seem too upset. Since this is the second act of traitorship I have been on the recieving end of by my neighbours I am sworn to rise again in another life and shoot them both. Also I'm not sure if Kings want the rugby top back as it seems to be covered in a very large amount of blood!
The other half of the Mafia, "The Ferret's Revenge", then succeeded in executing David "Mr Majyka" Pickavance:
Today has been an eventful day for Magdalene's finest. Having sucessfully diffused a suspect package, Maverick and I chose to spend the best part of the day letting blood. An outing to Pembroke proved unsucessful - don't worry, we'll be back. We the decided to pop into Corpus on the way home. We eventually managed to gain acess to the property of one David Pickavance, who happened to be coming out of his door with a cup of coffee. A single shot was all it took - Maverick then set about the rapidly cooling corpse with a knife. We then made our escape from the hostel, retiring to our clifftop hideaway to gloat.
A good day to die - a better one to kill.
This from the Master of Corpus Christi College:
Alas, terrible tragedy has struck the tight knit community of Corpus Christi College. One of its favourite sons, David Pickavance, was brutally gunned down in the prime of his life. At 15:00 the killer had just reached David's door as it was opened by the poor, unsuspecting corpse-to-be. The single bullet left no room for doubt or breath. The killer skipped off laughing as David collapsed in a pool of blood. Upon questioning, David's girlfriend, in the room at the time, had been aware of some commotion but could offer no information as to the identity of the killer.
"Jehovah's Witness" had a go at poisoning "Manhatten" and "Dial Emma For Murder":
Wyth this being as it is, the seven and twentyith day, of the first month, of this first glorious year of the new millenium, I decided to celebrate this wonderfull day, by proceding to killth and maim all that stood in my lyste. To acchieve this moth noble and worthy goal, I procured a small quantitie of that most deadly of substances: Marmalade... This I did proceed to paste liberally onto the reverse of a number of poisonous letters, which I proceeded at once to distribute amoungst the doorth of mine foes. However, there is grave news to report, owing to extreme bordom, when the time came to locte my third and final target, his room not being immediately apparent, I headed home (via. the abode of a beautiful but mysterious lady of death with whom I have become acquainted in my quest to destroy the evil forces of John's). Those of mine foes lucky to recieve the oportunity of a quick death, rather than the long drawn out agonising that must surely follow if I am forced to bestir myself once more, were none other than the personages of "Dial Emma For Murder", and "Manhatten", and their very own personally labled instruments of death and depravity were emplaced betwixt the hours of two and three on this very afternoon. May their souls rest in peace.
Those interested in the 'alleged' Jhonian mafia, may be interested to know that while poisoning Manhatten's letter, hidden in a nearby toilet, I heared several members of the aforementioned mafia, rather ironically, discussing my attack yesterday... Forces of darkness, unite against the vile stain on our fair city that is John's (mafia).
Both attempts failed. "Manhatten" has sent this telegram:
Nice Try. Stop. Come here again and I'll blow you away. Stop. Manhattan. Stop.
Let it be known that the Johnian Mafia is indistructable. Traitors will be executed!
"The Dark Side" failed in his bid to assassinate "Valkyrie".
The Dark Side made the perilous trek to the bowels of a certain staircase in a certain College, to make an attempt on the life of the Valkyrie Unfortunately, she wasn't there, so the assassin gave up in disgust and went home. However, The Dark Side was not to be thwarted by mere absence, and cam up with the cunning ploy of leaving a poisoned (with Lynx stick) Post-It on the victim's door. The results of this attempt are as yet unknown, but if a report arrives from the victim, The Dark Side claims full credit.
A report did arrive, but The Dark Side doesn't have much for which it's worth claiming credit:
This afternoon, as I returned to my room, I found my door covered in little post-it notes. It appeared that many of my friends had come to find my while I was out. On closer inspection, however, there was one strange note, with writing only on the bottom edge, saying "Came to c u PTO". This being quite suspicious in itself, since there seemed to be plenty of room for at least another three messages on this side, I was also warned by the notes from my friends, telling me: "Don't touch this note, it is poisened!", followed by many arrows and exclamation marks. So alas, my dear assassin, the Valkyrie still rides...
Ian "Fire-Eagle" Dunlop is suffering from a terminal absence of life, having been stabbed by Trezzer.
For the killing continues in fair Cambridge. The day was bright and sunny when I left the sanctury of my room and once more took to the streets, my knife, already tarnished with blood from yesterday's killing, snug in my pocket. I had my sights set on my new target, and so struck out for the monsterous typewriter where Cauis stores its first years. Soon I had arrived. I entered the court, allowing my college scarf to flap nonchalantly in the wind - surely no-one so blatently foreign to the college would be planning bloodshed and murder? However, it seemed I would be thwarted in my plans, as all doors were locked, and lacking college cards or passcodes I realised entery could take time.
I assumed my disguise as a young keen CUIS researcher, and with a wadge of forms under my arm entered the p'lodge. "I'm seeking Ian Dunlop, but i can't seem to get in anywhere..." The porters were friendly but blunt, there was no entry to Harvey Court unless accompanied by a member of the college. I scanned my mind, but I lacked even a passing aquaintence from lectures. Still, I was not downhearted. I returned to the quad and strolled round, searching for an entrance. I managed to break into the cell where the wheelybins were kept, but could penitrate no further. By now it had gone four. I was about to leave and return home...
When I saw that there was a man working in his room on the ground floor. I hastilly tapped on the window. "I'm supposed to be delivering these forms to Ian Dunlop. Do you know him?" "He lives above me... Come on in..." I climbed through the window. I was in! Thanking the kind stranger, I scaled the stairs, and reached a room at the end of a corridor. I could hear a guitar being strummed within. "Hello, I'm doing a survey for CUIS..." Sounds of scurrying around came through the door. I knew if I waited my victim would have found a weapon. So I opened the door and stepped through. Handing the forms to the person I found there (thus rendering his hands useless) I reached into my pocket, drew out my trusty knife, and stabbed him in the back.
I have killed again... the bloodlust is in me now...
Ian Dunlop has joined the Police Force.
The Red Squad, apparently of the Johnian mafia, attacked Rhombo en masse and almost died for it.
Earlier this afternoon I survived and defeated quite possibly the most laughable assasination attempt of recent times. So naive was the execution attempt that the end result was almost the single-handed mass-murder of my assassin and all 5 (maybe 6?) of his accomplices.
Whilst napping in my high-security quarters, I received an urgent phone call alerting me as to the ascent of my pseudo-executors. Future assasins beware - eyes watch their every move around my presence. I gathered my weaponry and slipped on my gas mask in preparation. Having traversed the hidden inter-room network (i.e the kitchen) I took cover in my neighbours room, from where i spied on an inconspicuous gang knocking on my door and then trying to sneak some poision gas underneath my door. Little did they know I was safely observing them in a different room. Witnesses to this include 2 of my kitchen-buddies and a host of spies outside who saw me rush out of my room upon sending me the warning phone call.
I then escaped through a secret exit to outside, and watched the gang as for some reason they eyed up the back of the building even though my room is blatantly at the front. Perhaps the St Johns scarves i think i saw account for this foolishness. I then discretely followed the said gang of assasin and accomplices (some of whom i saw brandishing weapons and such unsubtelty i feel warrants them as legitimate targets). They strolled out of college, away from danger or so they thought, and I tracked them so close that I heard their future plans to trap me (I feel i should inform them we have no outisde toilets anyway).
It was then that I made my pounce. In full view of the public innocently walking along Jesus Lane, I covered my mouth, darted out infront of the gang and sprayed my poison gas quickly and precisely in front of them. As the astounded public witnesses will testify, they were outmanoeuvred by the trusty old elements of surprise and skill. The group fell to the ground, only too late clawing their gas-masks into place, and the trademark rhombo celebration of bandana-with-random-arm-waving was unleashed in the glory of victory.
This assasination defeat was sponsored by Gillette - The Best an Assassin Can Get.
Unfortunately, air-currents and molecular diffusion dispersed the poison to a concentration below a noticable level. Red Squad, who made their shaky way back home. They have this to say of their activities:
At 14:00 today, Red Squad's Alpha wing, led by Commodore 'Mr. Cool', assaulted Jesus College in an attempt to eliminate Rhombo. The team entered the enemy complex bearing unit insignia, and we believe the target was tipped off as to our presence by civilians in the complex, unused to seeing military personnel so deep into their territory.
Upon attempting to breach the target's quarters, we discovered that he had fled. After leaving a class IV targeted biological weapon (deodorant can deployment) under his door, we left and headed back to HQ. However, it seems that the clever Rhombo had anticipated our lack of patience and attempted a foolhardy assault on our team in the middle of the street. The gas he used was not an effective weapon, as the team used their standard issue gas masks, and the harsh Siberian winds quickly dispersed it. Engineering Chief "The Duck Molester" fired a quick shot at the fast-moving enemy unit as he blacked out, but failed to score a hit.
The Umpires wish to make the following points: Firstly, poison gas is not particularly suitable for use outdoors or in unconfined environments. Secondly, retreating assassins (or group thereof) might like to consider looking behind themselves occassionally, as pursuit is not unheard of.
Today Dangerous Dave was attacked by his assassin Dr Evil, but instead of him it was the assassin, who died.
This afternoon, three people came to pay me a visit at my room. After knocking on the door, I peered through the spyhole to discover that they were planning on assassinating me, I pretended not to be there. They then had a second go at knocking, before deciding that their's was a wasted journey. Before they left, however, they proceeded to attempt to freak me out by drawing the outline of a dead body on the floor of the room opposite using chalk, which was left behind. But their meagre threats didn't stop there, as they left behind a note saying "YOU'RE NEXT"! Underestimating the danger of "Dangerous Dave", they left innocently, and fell straight into my cunning trap, and were mercilessly killed with a water pistol while they were planning their next kill. Although they managed to stagger on for a few seconds, and with his final breath, one of the accomplices tried to use poison gas (outside though, so completely harmless). Better luck next time.
The second to be snared in Pilchard's compaign of blackmail, Frances "Purple Lady" Robinson struck in front of 300 people to murder John "Sheepy Tim" Wyllie and retrieve the antidote to the deadly delayed poison infusing her body. She tells first of her entrapment:
I went to my pigeonhole. Chancing upon some post, I opened it. Apparently, i have been infected my a deadly virus, and "Pilchard" alone hold the antidote. Putting aside my quibbles, I understand I must destroy one of his targets by 2pm tomorrow (my 24 hours) to live. I know my name will be made wanted. I know I must suffer the consequences.... and I know I will win. For I am purple lady, Anastacia's revenge, risen from the tragedy of absolutism... and I will do my duty.
Making good on her words, the Lady carried out her instructions, and saved her own life... but at what cost?
After this morning's 'death in the bordello' at Trinity and my subsequent downfall via a 24 hour poison warning, the antidote has been administered. Following Pilchard's instructions, John "Sheepy Tim" Wyllie was blown away by the purple peril at point blank range in a gloriously messy orgy of death in King's College Canteen. Using my feminine wiles, I got past King's fortress-like security system to the bar, where I enquired after him. By chance, I met a good friend of his, who led to me to their Hall, which reminded me of the imperial throne room where I spent so many happy hours with my great aunt, the dowager empress of white russia. I walked up to him, asked after his identity, and delivered a single, clean shot to the head with my darling pistoletta. I live. "Pilchard" has failed. If you have a heart, if you are kind and good men, you will understand that I did what I did because I had to, and spare me the wanted list. I implore you... I beg you.. I offer you what little I have.
there is a dark force at the heart of John's.
We will destroy.
Brown Avenger was the first to go.
There must be justice. The "Purple lady" has avoided death... but only through stealing the life of some other, one whom it was not given to her to kill. The Frances "Purple lady" Robinson is therefore wanted for murder.
Wanted criminal Simon "Dial Emma For Murder" Ford has embarked on a scheme to totally annihilate the Police Force. Simon reports:
PC Elephantitis was the first to die, a victim of a gunshot wound to the upper torso. He shouldn't have been so eager to answer the door.
Soon after, Simon struck again...
The Purple Lady should have known better, and I have done the Guild a service by removing a wanted criminal of such low moral fibre from this Earth. She left her doors open, so I walked in and was able to shoot her in the belly whilst she hid her nudity under her duvet. In vain had she sought a weapon, but it was on her desk, what a shame!
Next up was another policeman:
PC Fire-eagle succumbed to further gunshot wounds, once more to the body. A studious officer, he was working whilst the bullets burst through his chest.
A recent press release by Chief Sniper reads:
"Two good officers perished today, at the hands of a vile and vicious (yet capable) criminal. Rest assured that this will not go unpunished - our fast response teams are already being deployed, and swift retaliatory action is imminent. Mr. Ford shall taste the bitterness of one's own blood. Oh, and stay away from Emma, everyone! It's dangerous!"
The Dark Side eliminated Freija "The Valkyrie" Glansdorp.
The most important rule as an assassin: never drop you guard. Knowing this, and being suspicious of every single sound in my staircase, it was definitely not an easy task for my assassin to kill me. Even poisened notes had not been successful. Unfortunately however, my assassin turned out to be among my most trusted friends. So this traitor waited for me to come to the bar, happily greeted me, and then stabbed me multiple times, leaving me to die among my shocked friends. The Valkyrie will ride no more, but now would like to join the Police.
The Valkyrie is now on the Police Force
"The Unusual Suspect" and friends managed to kill Edward "Delerium" Wallace. First on the agenda was a visit to "Dangerous Jim":
Well, y'know, I was entertaining some guests, and I happened to be in the kitchen when a whole lot of other guests came upstairs. Madness!! And when I went back into the room, I found one guest laid out on the floor, like, with a shocking bruise on his head. The still-conscious members of the dinner party said that four men had come into the room, and hit the guys over the head. Shocking! My lady friends said once they found that neither of the victims was me, they roused one and took him to find Delirium....
Extremely wanted criminal Simon Ford had this to say about the affair:
Many thanks to "Dangerous Jim" for assistance for pointing out that Edward Wallace was a player. He managed to kill one of my innocent accomplices, but was blown away at point blank range by The Unusual Suspect (but only after his gun was on show).
The victim elaborates somewhat:
Being extremely tired due to late-night wanderings round Cambridge with explosives, and not thinking straight due to an overdose of analysis, I was suspicious but not cunning when I heard voices on the stairs asking for me. They knocked at my door and sold me some story about a police SWAT team run by PC Bud White rounding up people to get Simon Ford. Needless to say, I believed not a word of it. However, my next step was foolish, and events unfolded quickly.
I answered the door with my cap gun.
And was confused for two reasons:
a) it failed to go off, and
b) the person (person 1) I just hadn't shot wasn't trying to kill me.
And was confused for two reasons: a) it failed to go off, and b) the person (person 1) I just hadn't shot wasn't trying to kill me. Then, while person 1 engaged me in argument, person 2 brought out a cosh and made for me. My cap gun worked then....but as his midriff erupted in blood, his cosh connected with my head. Then the hand of person 3 appeared and blew out my brains.
Did I fail to mention that a friend of mine led four self-admitted assassins from Dangerous Jim's room to mine, giving me no warning whatsoever?
The wanted criminal Dial Emma for Murder and cronies went on to try to kill his assassin Jehova's Witness.
A failed attempt once again at Jesus, where my final accomplice was killed. I give this particular assassin respect, as his paranoia was admirable.
The target has this to say:
Picture the scene: 23:30 - lights off, music on low, enjoying some company, when a knocking comes upon my door... Knowing full well that noone with legitimate reason would try at such a time, I suspected foul play. However, for compelling (but unspecified) reasons, I had no desire to move, so I decided to simply wait for them to depart.
After maybe two minutes of this, I realised that the music would clue them into my presence, and I became worried about a bomb attack. I arose, donned a dressing gown, and retrieved my gun. I then made my way to the door, where I looked through my peephole, and saw two people waiting just around the corner, with little subtlety. One of them approached the door, cap gun in hand. Just as he knocked, I pulled the door partially ajar, and fiured three times at his retreating figure, he fired twice on his way back. However due to the somewhat shoddy quality of our guns, not one shot actually went off.
At this point, I recalled firing my gun earlier in the day, resulting in a partially empty clip. I hastily reloaded. By this time, my targets were starting to get cocky, I worried them by quickly opening and shutting the door, which did cause them to jump back.
A short time later, watching silently through my peephole, I saw one of the assasins, presumably thinking me not observant, walked to within a metre of my door, and bent down to look at the bottom cupboard (on my left), presumably with a view to hiding in it. Marveling at his stupidity, I opened the door, and fired twice at his retreating figure, both went off, and both clear shots to the body, at 1.5 to 2 metres away.
Next, watching through my peephole, as the one I had just shot (but was uncertain of having killed) gestured to his companion tohide behind the doorway, and approached my door. He failed to observe that the 'wall' he was hiding behind was in fact a sheet of frosted glass, limiting it's potential for concealment.
The corpse then approached my door (gun in hand, but pointed downwards), and asked to confirm the kill. Confirm it I did, by shooting him in the chest at point blank range, before talking to him through a barely open door. He was, he claimed, from the police, and he had (apparantly) seen my name on a list. I expressed my surprise at this, and asked about his companion, still hiding rather ineptly. The companion turned, and saw me watching him through the glass, the corpse laughed hollowly, then moved out of the way. I dived behind the door, closing it as a projectile from the companion's gun flew through the door, missing me.
I expressed surprise at the fact that projectiles were being fired at me, and they asked if it had hit. I replied that it hadn't, then collected it, and another which had entered my room at some point (without hitting me), and threw them outside calling "Here's your bullets back!" I then attempted to shoot the person who collected them, but ws confounded by the fact that the gun did not function, and he was the corpse anyway. They left shortly afterwards, I followed several minutes later, taking the hidden routes, until I was able to confirm the departure of two armed intruders with someone on a lower floor.
Jehova's Witness lives on!
"LLoyd" has an adventurous evening trying to assassinate "Echo".
Last night, I took a trip out to Harvey court, fo a spot of killing. Target in question, "Echo". Charming my way past a very nice young lady, I entered the building (which puts me in mind of missile bunkers I have known, I must say) But the lady was not present. Shame. Suddenly, she appeared from a sidedoor, blasting in my direction. Well, loosely speaking. She was hitting the floor, mainly. Not me, at any rate. I took cover, and mused. I thought that a quick cigatette might help matters, but as I was enjoying the fruit of BAT, an assassin made a hit next door. Well, call me Mr. Paranoid-Trousers, but theres no way Im going to discharge a weapon in front of an armed man, not if he stays alive. I pursuaded him (mainly with force of argument, though gunpoint may have come into it) to accompany me. and we layed on a vicious attack. On her room. She wasnt there. Oh bum.
As i left, she started to snipe at me from the balcony (with a gun, I mean. She wasnt just shouting nasty things...) But missed completely. She claimed to have scored a hit, but I and my accomplice disgreed, and to be honest, darling, if your shooting earlier was anything to go by, you dont really have a leg to stand on...
The target reports:
Strange events have ensued tonight... things going bump in the corridors, insanity in the air. As I returned cold and weary from a night of cultural pursuits, the spectre of death was immediately obvious. An innocent friend was pointing me out to a pair of blatant assassins (he had the coat and everything). However the coat maketh not the assassin... despite having me at incredibly close range they failed in any kind of attempt on my life. My uncertain retreat, not particularly hasty, also went unmolested and I was able to hide in a safe place until they'd given up. However, my contacts suggested they might return... I would be prepared...
Sure enough they returned to knock on my door, but I had secreted myself down the corridor, whence i shot at them... but sadly my rubbber bands fell just short. Unwilling to put myself at risk, I gave them up for a bad job. However, I 'll give them points for persistence. They once again returned from their lurking place to knock on my door. This time I was inside, and, bored with their antics, told them to bugger off. I couldn't quite resist one more shot at them tho, and so lay in wait with my supersoaker to get them as they left the building... and sure enough when they finally emerged, I shot. My assassin denied being hit, but I have my doubts...
A valiant SWAT team lead by Chief Sniper himself stormed Dial Emma for murder's staircase.
A SWAT raid to neutralize dangerous psycopath Simon "Dial Emma for Murder" Ford took place early this morning. My squad secured the staircase, and blocked all of the access and escape routes, while I attempted to gain access to the criminal's hideout. The door was locked, and there was no response to my calls for compliance, so we concluded the criminal was ignoring us, asleep, or just not in. We began planting a bomb but were compromised by civilians - that, added to the possibility of a set-up by corrupted officers, forced us to quickly retreat and disperse... but rest assured we WILL deal with the criminal.
Looks like Chief Sniper doesn't take his own advice about staying away from Emma very seriously - but then, he wasn't alone and his SWAT team was well armed. Nethertheless, there would seem to be a security leak in the police force, or so the target's report suggests:
Having gained information regarding the appearance of
Chief Sniper, I was able to avoid him this morning as
he and his SWAT team entered Emmanuel via Front Court.
I was about to leave the relative safety of my college
when I saw him walking along St Andrews Street. I
ducked back into college, hiding behind the pillars
whilst the danger passed. I was lucky to avoid the
SWAT team, as they were heavily armed, and they had
caught me without any heavy weaponry.
After Simon "Dial Emma for murder" Ford's recent murder of PC Valkyrie, polls show that only 7% of Cambridge's assassins believe that it is safe to leave their doors open. The killer notes:
Incidentally, whilst I was at Pembroke I called in to see PC Valkyrie. She was very friendly, perhaps enjoying her peace of mind after being assassinated last night. Anyway, I shot her while she was pulling her socks up, just to keep Police numbers manageable.
How could this happen?
After having suffered the horrible trauma of being killed by one of my friends, I was just starting to get ready to perform my task as a Police Officer. At this moment, a friendly looking person walked in. Suspiciously, I told him that I was already dead. He apparantly knew this, and informed me that I had been put up as a Police Officer, and should thus watch out for the notorious criminal Simon "Dial Emma For Murder" Ford. This puzzled me. Why would any stranger come to my room to warn me from such a threat? But the friendly person walked off, and I nearly started to breathe normally again, when he suddenly jumped through my door again, and shot me in the back exclaiming: "And that's me!", thus ending my very short career as a member of the Police Force.
The first recipient of mail from The Unusual Suspect was Teleute. According to the sender:
At 13:00 hours Sunday afternoon a series of delayed action poison letters were sent to my targets - including Michael Cox and Teleute - with the target details of each of the other two and a time limit of 24 hours. If they open them without protection, the poison (a deadly virus) will begin to work its way through their systems leading to an agonising, frothing death. Of course, if one of said assassins should, for instance, die before the 24hrs are up, there will only be one option left. Showdown!
No one could predict the elusive cunning of Teleute, however, who neatly eliminated Michael "Bunyip" Cox without becoming a criminal.
A remorseful Teleute reporting in. Having been blackmailed by an unoriginally monickered A.N.Assassin to murder one of two of his targets, Teleute came for Bunyip - good friend and lecture colleague. Being a trusting soul he happily aimed his gun at her, making himself an unwitting but legitimate target, at which point she shot him twice in the chest at point blank range, cunningly avoiding being outlawed for killing one unarmed. Her words to him were "I'm sorry", as his girlfriend looked on in horror. Teleute now is cured of the deadly virus, but the memory of this deed will weigh on her heart for the rest of her days.
She comes to us all eventually. Teleute is bidding her time. Everybody has met her once before, and she will be seen by many again very soon. Do not be afraid. You get what anybody else gets - you get a lifetime....
The Umpire would request that anyone wishing to send such a poisoned letter consult with them beforehand.
After an exciting pursuit through the streets of Cambridge, Dangerous Dave killed his assassins' accomplice.
Three unidentified people attempted to assassinate me this afternoon, while I was in my room. They came to my room, and left after they thought I wasn't in. I then caught them with my water pistol as they left. It can't be confirmed whether this killed any of the 3 people, but they ran off. I then had a second attempt at killing the assassins with the water pistol when they were calmly walking away on Trinity Street, right outside Heffers. Again, I can't confirm whether any of them were killed at this stage. Terrified, they split up running in all directions, and I chased one of the assassins/accomplices, scoring a direct hit with the water pistol on the grass outside Trinity. There was then a high speed chase on foot around the streets of Cambridge, as he ran past John's, turning right onto Sidney Street, before I lost him around Sainsbury's about 2 minutes after the chase began. What would the tourists think? I'm pretty certain I killed the person on the grass right outside Trinity, and there's a good chance I hit the other 2 people, but we'll have to see what they say. They'd better watch out if they're still alive.
The unlucky Dave happened to shoot the accomplice; his assassins' escaped, rather shaken, but without injury. The dead man's last words were:
Further reports of the activity of the Magdalene Mafia. I was drafted in this afternoon to join "Maverick" and The Ferret's Revenge as an accomplice to the attempt on the life of "Dangerous Dave". Having successfully navigated his college's maze of staircases, we approached his door.
Opting for the direct approach, I knocked several times, with no answer. Pausing only to note that the target had already had an attempt on his life (a chalk outline on the floor with the words 'You're next' written on a note in the centre), we departed, with a plan to return the next day for another attempt.
Halfway back to the gate, the target appeared behind us, brandishing a luminous green weapon, and fired off several shots. My companions fled as I took the force of several hits to the back, ruining my favourite jacket. The last thing I saw before the icy hand of death descended was 'Maverick' and 'The Ferret's Revenge' splitting up to flee, 'Dangerous Dave' in hot pursuit of 'Maverick'. However, St Peter informs me that 'Maverick's' Guardian Angel has been working overtime, and as such Magdalene's finest live to fight another day.
As for myself, the Almighty One has informed me that my desire for vengeance will be sated, and as soon as I procure a suitable weapon, I shall be applying to the police, and exacting painful revenge!
The assassins who fled have this to say:
Maverick and the Ferret engaged in dogfight manouevers over the streets of cambridge. Bounced by single bogie on our six we decided discresion to be the better part of valour. Unfortunately, our civilian observer, Paul Gardener, was shot down in flames. Me and the Maverick split, I wheeled round through John's and Magdalene in an attempt to pick the bandit off my wingman. Unfortunately, he was gone. We caught sight of him briefly outside The Gardinia, then lost him again in the sun.
Dangerous Dave backstabbed Jon "J" Ma
This must surely be one of the more ironic assassinations to take place. Before reading what took place, it is essential that you first read about what took place at 3.00pm on Saturday 27th January. By chance, I knew my target rather well, and his assassination was simple. But I wanted to try to do something slightly less ordinary, and had been planning where and when to kill him since the beginning of the game. The previous day (see above) gave me the idea for where to kill him. After that, I wanted him eliminated as quickly as possible, but unfortunately, he was out for most of the day.
Then, early this afternoon, I showed him the evidence of my encounter with assassins on Saturday. As he peered down at the outline of the body on the floor, he heard the story of how it all happenned, completely unaware of the drama which was about to unfold.
"The funniest thing about it [the assassination attempt] was the note they left,"I told him as he read what it said, "because you're next! I'm your assassin!" After shooting him multiple times in the chest with a water pistol, he fell to the ground, neatly filling the curves of the chalk. "That's [the outline of] your body on the ground!"
It took him a few seconds to work out what was going on, because he was so shocked at being killed by myself. I just had to kill him though, otherwise someone else might have taken the pleasure away.
To add to the irony, I was partly responsible for getting him into the game, since I forwarded him the e-mail about joining this term's game, and now I've taken him out of the game.
The score is now 4-0 to me in the space of 24 hours, so watch out for Dangerous Dave!
I'm sure that at least 3 people are doing so... The amount of violence this weekend has cheered up certain other people, as well:
bh234 notes that lots of people have been killing each other. bh234 approves, as this allows him to sit back in his comfy chair and wait for all the overly-enthusiastic newbies to slaughter themselves. bh234 eagerly anticipates the point where almost everyone is dead, as this will make mopping up significantly easier. bh234 congratulates all those who are killing people, and sincerely hopes that they manage to kill lots of them before ending up dead themselves.
Nicholas "Mr Potato Head" Owen has finally succumbed to Pilchard's poisoned blackmail.
Nicholas Owen has joined the Police Force.
"The Ferret's Revenge" assassinated Henry "The Dark Side" Lockwood.
Next, we moved on to attempt some carnage in Pembroke. Our first target was out when we called, so we moved on to the secondary target - Henry Lockwood, aka the dark side. A tried and tested approach. I knocked on the door. He opened. I shot him, forced him into the room and onto the floor, and fired a further seven shots into the now writhing corpse. Strike two for the Ferret, strike four for the Magdalene boys.
"Trezzer" accomplished an outstanding assassination of Angela "Agent Big Yellow Rubber Duck" Rayner and the Master Assassin Alex "Cookie Monster" Churchill thusly:
I came from the east, to the land of red brick, and Robinson was its name. After speaking with the guards of the gates, I knew my route in, and swiftly scaled the stairs to the room of my victim. I was not expecting what I found there. No easy fresher target, no open door, but a shared set owned by two of the most dedicated assassins I have met, with two locked doors between myself and my victim. Still, I could not return without having tried. I knocked, hoping my ridiculous plan would be enough to see me through. A man's voice answered. As my target was a woman I knew this did not bode well...
"I've brought Angela half a ginger cake." The sheer bizarreness of the statement was enough for me to gain entrance through the outer door. I was led to the room where Angela lay slumbering, clutching the ginger cake in one hand, running my fingers over the paper knife in my pocket. I could feel myself being examined through the spy hole. "Do I know you?" Well, there was no point in lying. "No. I've brought you half a ginger cake." The door slid open a crack.
I found myself looking down the barrel of the largest gun I had seen. Scanning the room, I noticed a cleaver on the table, a dagger besides it, an axe under the bed and a pistol at the feet of Angela's comrade, who was now seated at the computer. Not to mention the fact Angela was still holding the water gun, keeping it trained on my every move. Suddenly my paper knife seemed very, very unimpressive. I took refuge in my only defence. "It's half a ginger cake. From the man on the market. Err, why are you so paranoid? Are you assassins or something?"
I soon had their confession from there own lips. Their weapons were, clearly, on display. Unfortunately the odds of me being able to draw my knife and stab without one of them causing my untimely end were not promising at all. So I took refuge in the first story that sprang to mind. "It's a bizarre initiation rite for a secret society. I can't tell you which. You have to deliver half a ginger cake to a random person at the university. It's good cake." I ate the first slice myself, to prove it wasn't poisoned. (How would you poison a ginger cake? With strong flavored spices like ginger?) And so began a pleasant half hour, of cake and very good company, and free flowing conversation about life, assassins, children and more. We began to relax. Alex placed his gun at his feet to search on his computer for societies requiring ginger cake, Angela relaxed her hold on hers. She even showed me her new, retractable glow in the dark knife, opening the packet so I could get a good look at it.
I toyed with the weapon in my hand for ten minutes. Then, it having gone four, I knew the time was ripe. Attempting to look nonchalant I strolled over to look at what Alex was typing, and stabbed him brutally in the back, wheeling round to take out Angela before she could respond. They were dead, killed by their own knife when clearly displaying weapons. Pride rushed through me. Thus perished Alex Churchill and Angela Rayner.
And then I hung around for a bit longer, we finished off the cake and ate jellibabies, and then I went home. But that is another story...
The Cookie Monster just couldn't resist the cookies:
Not much I can add to the story - Trezzer has told it well, with no false
claims of overconfidence. She tricked us effectively, though. She asked
us if we were /still/ paranoid about her; we responded that she was
suspiciously keeping her hands in her pockets. She showed us a scrap of
paper, giggled and said it's just how she stands normally, and removed
them quickly. Such disarming willingness to appease our suspicions lulled
I was still unconvinced for at least 20 minutes, and while not holding a gun in my hand, I remained ready to jump for one should our mysterious guest demonstrate any hostility. But she conspicuously failed to do so, seeming more interested in chatting about the joys of lectures, hometowns and such other relaxing topics. She played the part extremely effectively; my paranoia was finally quietened. Which was my doom. Still, congratulations go to Trezzer for a well-accomplished kill, and the most surreal excuse-to-get-in-the-door I've experienced in my long murdering career.
Miss Rubber Duck has this to say:
An attempt at blackmail by Dial Emma for Murder was unsuccessful, for The Horrible Rock Monster was on its guard:
I recieved today in my pidgeon hole a suspicious envelope which I believed
to contain poison having been alerted to this ploy by another member of
the non-existant Pembroke mafia who suffered a similar fate earlier
today. I opened it carefully with a gas mask using a dagger and have
suffered no ill. "Dial Emma for Murder" fails once again.
The horrible rock monster
David "Jasper McKintley" Knipe snuffed it whilst trying to kill Dr X. The doctor reached this diagnosis:
A strange Irish man asked if I knew where I was. I was not in my room and he assumed I was not me. I returned to my room post haste to prepare for a siege. Then I remembered the old adage attack is the best form of defence, thought bollocks to it, and went outside, where I met mr Irish man. I slashed him with my Sgian Dubh, the traditional Scottish dagger, across the torso, and them as he pulled a gun on me, stabbed him in the axilla (that's an armpit to the uninitiated). This destroyed his brachial nervous plexus, paralysing his arm and rendering his attack impossible. He then bled to death from his brachial artery. Then we had tea.
The attacker concurs:
At around 8.25pm last night, I attempted to assassinate my target, Dr X. I asked two separate people in the block where to find him; both said he was upstairs. The people upstairs said I had just missed him and said which one he was. With hindsight, I should have known that he was an assassin. At this point I miscalculated, thinking he would be waiting for me in his room. One moment I was opening the door to the corridor, next thing I knew there was a maniac with a knife trying to stab me.
"Shadow" assassinated Ben "Mighty Upsetter" Jarman. The man of the night sent in this report:
Having experimented with different skills and finished my supervision I decided to try the assassin's favourite. My plan B was not needed for when I knocked he came and opened the door and I made it quick and painless with my trusty gun.
Wanted criminal Dial Emma for Murder continues to prey on the police force. Next to die was PC Paul "Ribena" Hickford. Says the notorious one:
I proceded to Queens where the famous PC "Ribena" (formerly PC P Zero) was in residence. Upon approaching his door I heard voices; Ribena's and a female's. I hung around outside his room for some time until I heard the jangle of keys. I hid in the nearby toilet, and on hearing the door open, sprung forward and was able to shoot PC Ribena before he was able to close the door.
Oh, no! They've killed Paul again! The victim reports his valiant, but vain, fight:
All day I had been on edge. I knew Simon Ford was at large, and I knew he was killing cops. I knew he would come for me, and since we have met in the past I knew he would recognise me, and could strike anywhere. All day I was leaping to the spy hole at the slightest sound, but I knew he would not be so stupid. I was going everywhere armed to the teeth, not knowing when he would strike. Then this evening the visit I had been expecting finally came...
While talking to a friend in my room I thought I heard a rattle at my door. Knowing it to be locked I carried on talking, intending to check thoroughly as my friend left. But our conversation went on for a while, and I forgot all about the suspicions I had harboured. So, later when my friend was leaving I performed a brief check of my spy hole, and opened the door with my gun in my pocket. Wishing my friend goodbye I saw a familiar figure leaping from the bathroom. I dived back for cover into my room, and drew my gun. I opened my door and scanned the corridor for a sign of my assailant. He leapt out from the concealed place to which he had moved and fired. I fired, but his aim was true and I was spinning towards him when his first bullet struck my gun arm. I fell to the floor wounded, my gun falling just out of reach. But rather than moving in for the kill he began trying to interrogate me. He demanded information about SWAT team actions, and the movements of police. But they trained us for this at the academy! Staring death in the face I kept silent, until the final shot came. At least he had the honour to "finish him" with a final shot to the head.
I died with the knowledge that I could have been saved. I had been rather secretive about my actions, and even some of my closest friends didn't know I was an assassin. In fact when questioned I had categorically denied the allegations. Which was my own undoing. While the fugitive had been waiting outside my room several people had passed him. They had all given him strange looks, and moved on. But one of these people was a close friend, who could easily have contacted me to forwarn me of the danger. But she had presumed he was there for someone else, since I wasn't playing this term. So hadn't contacted me with vital infomation. Bugger.
Second to fall to Simon Ford was PC "Dark Side", who wasn't convincing enough to talk himself out of his situation:
I tried several other targets next, but most were out.
I did however leave contact poison on the door of PC Burns,
as his absence pissed me off that much.
A visit to Pembroke was to prove more fruitful. PC The Dark Side
was in his room according to his neighbour,
so I knocked, and was rewarded when he opened his
door. I pulled my pistol on him straight away, but he
claimed that he was already dead.
"Already dead as a policeman?" I asked.
"Yes," he claimed.
"Who by?" I asked. After all, aren't I the most and only wanted criminal in Cambridge?
"By err err err you know, thingy," he managed to utter. He then tried to casually pick up his piece, but I shot him in the chest, leaving him to be found by his bedder tomorrow morning.
Chief Sniper's frustration is evidently growing and all he has to say about this matter is:
"This is outrageous. We have taken too many casualties already - it is time we take some drastic measures. The Police High Command are currently trying to agree on the appropriate course of action to contain the catastrophe. It is very likely that the Chiefs will deal with the menace personally, or die in the attempt. Watch this space for further announcements."
Someone attempted to kill Harland Quinn (M.A.):
Whilst trying to sleep in my room, On my way to peaceful slumber. A noise arose, a kerfuffle outside, What could it have been I wonder? A bystander (lets call him Dave, for the purposes of the plot), didst hail me from my sweet repose, lest I should soon be shot. Dave chatted with the ones outside. Hear now his story unfolding. how 5 assassins were put to tail, by the sound of his little gun loading. Dave: Oi 'eard a noise outsoide moi room. but wart did oi think it could be? Had they come fer moi true friend, HQ, or could they be comin' fer me? I wandered outsoide to greet the crowd, And oi saw a fearsome soite. Two gois, two gurls, and a weirdo in a dressing gown and funny glarses that oi carn't foind anythin' to rhoime with. They said they didn't ken this fifth, So I wanted to retoire, unto moi room, to unroll moi kit, lest he, at me, should foire. Alas, at the sound of my loadin' up, The foive turned heel and fled, They clearly bein' in one big gang, but still filled full o' dread. My thanks, to Dave and his ventriloquism, Whilst I stayed in a warm snug bed. My voice did come from inside his room, To mess with my assassin's head. A worthy attempt from the novices. Of course, from the Lion of Blue. The gas was a cunning, but unsubtle plan, So it failed, regards, HQ
Jehova's Witness and Manhatten avoided the other's shots in true matrix style. Well, actually, they were both out of range. The attacker says:
I jehova's witness did venture forth to the lair of one Manhatten, in order to advance his soul to the next life - Approaching his room, I found it unlocked, and did come within. Seeing two where only one should be, I hesitated and called "Manhatten?"... After a moments hesitation one grabbed for a gun, and a massive volley of firepower did enschew, over the head of the poor innocent. Miraculously, every shot went wide. Realising that this must be a signal from above that the time was not yet ripe - I departed once more into the darkness. His time will come soon.
The defender reports thusly:
Whilst enjoying a film on TV a John Wilkes Boothe-esque assassin came in, hesitated and asked for "Manhatten". Upon seeing that he was armed I drew my gun and we started firing almost simultaneously. He stayed in the doorway.
Cap guns are deadly only at point blank range (less than 1m), but these assassins were clearly further apart when they fired at each other, hence no casualties. Remember, kids, killing with a cap gun demands a clear shot at less than one metre range.