Ruthless copkiller Muffy the Umpire Flayer has slaughtered yet another poor police officer. This morning's lucky recipient was PC Simon "Dilemma" Ford, who was himself trying to kill Muffy at the time:
Having signed on to the Police Force with the death of Muffy the Umpire Slayer in mind, it came as a great disappointment when I died at his hands in the department today. Having been able to identify where he would be, I positioned myself. Unfortunately, when the moment came and he approached, I was far too slow to draw my weapon and he stabbed me multiple times. Ouch would be an understatement.
No Dilemma
The unfortunate Malibu Man has fallen to a patch of Simon "Dial Emma for Murder" Ford's week-old contact poison. Though DeFM may be feeding the worms, his life's work lives on, it seems. This report from the victim's grieving friend Captain Caveman:
On the night of 30th January, some inept fool tried to contact posion my door..... suspicion leads me to believe it was Simon "DEfM" Ford, having been given my address by a close friend at Emma's. Despite the presence of 3 assasins and two innocents in the room, he decided not to knock and simply contact posion the door. Fortunately I don't use my door handle any more. Unfortunately, my associate Malibu Man fell victim to the foul poison after taking a whazz. The red mafia will avenge this terrible occurrence, mark my words......
Beakachu's second attempt on Christopher "Uh" Reynish proved successful. In his own words...
Despite his years of painstaking research in the field of excellence, Beakachu only found out today that he had been attending the same lectures as his arch nemesis, Uh, since the beginning of Michaelmas term. Following The Brown Avenger's gross incompetence when ordered to guard the trapped Uh on Saturday, not to mention the target's miraculous escape, Beakachu was especially keen to do away with this arrogant fellowe. Sitting at the back of the lecture hall he spied 'Tonto's' corpse. Sure enough, the target was sitting next to him. Beakachu waited for the lecture to end, cackling greedily at the thought of this knave's demise. He then followed the target out of the lecture hall and, after a brief struggle, plunged his knife deep into Uh's mangled flesh. The cad squealed like a pig, his hideous trotters flailing wildly as he desperately tried to cling on to his worthless life. Greedily Beakachu devoured the soiled remains before returning to his lair to revel in the drool of Alfred Lord Tennyson.
Donning his clogs, his cape and kilt,
And clutching his sword by the hilt,
Gallant Beakachu spied the cad,
And lunged at him with all he had
For twelvety days and twelvety nights,
The Titans fought and soiled their tights,
Bravely Beakachu drew his beak,
And plunged it deep into Chris's cheek
Now Uh lies with lifeless eyes,
Silenced are his cowardly cries,
And peasants weep while knaves exclaim,
That evil Uh has been slain!
This murder was committed in front of many witnesses, some of whom espied the male attacker running off towards Trinity Hall after the kill. All were unable to confirm that Beakachu's glow red. Scrawled in blood on the pavement were these, the victim's last words:
Yesterday at 10 o'clock I was returning to my room, confident that those who would feed upon me could not be abroad during the hours of daylight, when a knife was plunged into my side from behind. I turned to face my attacker and the burning eyes of Beakachu glared back at me. The demon drained the blood from my dying body as I drifted in and out of consciousness. The last thing I saw before my life ended was Beakachu transforming into a cute little bat and then flying away.
Witnesses contest this tale of events; apparently, the bat wasn't all that cute.
The Shadow received a peculiar piece in the post today...
A suspicious-looking package in my pigeonhole was destroyed unopened with my bomb disposal kit this morning. I do not know for sure whether it was booby-trapped. The facts that it had a Cambridge postmark, was addressed to my hostel rather than college, and did not include a postcode, were all rather suggestive however.
The criminal Jamie "Lloyd" Douglass's masterful impersonation of a policeman cumulated in the cold-blooded murder of his "fellow officers" Inspector Cookie Monster and Agent Big Yellow Rubber Duck. This pair seem to have been overly, indeed fatally, trusting of late...
Dear All.
Having convinced the two law enforcers Angela Rayner and Alex Churchill that I was really someone else (ah! existential angst...) I gained entry to their rooms, well, Angela's room, tonight, in order to set up a raid on myself. Quite why they thought I would want to kill myself I'm not entirely sure, but they bought the story. At the expense of their lives. Oh yes.
Mm-hmm, I'm afraid was forced to senselessly slay them both (Angela with her own knife. You really MUST be careful to whom you give these things, my dear, a child could hurt itself. YOU could hurt yourself. I could hurt you. Oh, actually, I rather think I did, didnt I? How tactless of me) Angela now has a nice slashed throat (the envy of the catwalk) and Alex has a big hole in the centre of his chest where I shot him(and according to my accomplice, one in the head as well. I forget these fripperies)
In any case, Requiesat In Pacem, my dearests,
love and kisses,
Lloyd
Oh dear! Only four police officers are left, two of which are wanted for corruption! There's now only one cop per criminal and the score is currently 20:1 for the 'Cambridge Wanted Allstars'. Things are looking bad for law and order in Cambridge...
This just in from bh234, who claims to want to cooperate with people. Does anyone believe this is anything other than an evil scheme to murder those who might trust him?
bh234 is bored. Nobody has attempted to bomb bh234's door for ages, and bh234 tires of sending poisoned letters to people. Doesn't anyone want to come and kill people with bh234?
This is a reminder that all assassins have until Thursday (8th February) 23:59:59 to make a reasonable attempt on one of their legal targets. Those who have not done so by this deadline will be made wanted for incompetence. Those who have not yet reported one of their attempts, or who are unsure whether they have avoided the wanted list, should email the umpires at once.
The restoration of Chapel Court (Jesus College) to its original 14th century state (viz, a meadow) has begun today with the demolition of the first staircase. In the process, PC Jehova's Witness experienced short term exposure to steep pressure and heat gradients, courtesy of the dangerous terrorist Mat "Muffy the Umpire Flayer" Laycock and his alternative 'Demolition Man' persona. Scientific experiments on the officer's ashes yielded this brief report:
This morning I opened my door cautiously, looking for bombs, was rather surprised to see a wire stretched across the gap, and for reasons I can attribute only to last night, carried on opening my door...
Unfortunately, proceedings were delayed in Library Court, when the wary criminal Commander Sniper defused his personal doorbomb:
This one's screaming "Matt Laycock", but I don't know his handwriting and it's not signed so I'm not sure.
I don't have time to write a longer report now but I defused the bomb. Well, opened the door remotely with a network cable (after being warned by a friend), and the bomb didn't actually go off. I spotted a pressure detonator below the bottle, and again used another network cable to topple the bottle from a safe distance, but it didn't go off either. Neither of the detonations would've killed me, but it's a shame that the bomb didn't actually work. Then again, I have the intact detonation devices here... which will be returned to their maker soon enough.
Cambridge arose this morning to find a strange new structure that has already come to be known as "The Half House" by the local populace. This striking piece of modern art has already become a huge tourist attraction, despite being situated on the site of corrupt police officer PC Bud White's former abode, and indeed the site of what remains of his current home. The homeowner issued the following statement:
A bomb was planted outside the main front door to my house, I suspect MUFFY was responsible but given 8 people use the door odds of 1/8 seem quite poor for a master. The full bins and the exploded Henry vacuum cleaner point to a very unfortunate bedder. Regardless MUFFY's usefulness is at an end, I know what you study where you live even your position in the third men.
Tomorrow you die. You have until then to make peace with whatever god you call your own!
PC Bud White's guess proved correct; the terror organization known as M.U.F.F.Y. has claimed responsibility. On an entirely different note, would a criminal's business with the "third men" really help make it easier to kill him? Catching a boatie would probably entail getting up at 6am or thereabouts.
A poisoned letter signed only 'Balu' failed to remove the corrupt police officer Commander Sniper, who has this to say:
Balu just sent me a rather obvious poison letter... to his credit, he did use the correct postcode and address, but the letter had no stamps or post office markings, or the UMS seal. The fact that the envelope was of a low-quality type not normally used by either the University or any respectable firms didn't help either. The letter was carefully opened with my trusty Leatherman, and found to contain nasty white powder. An overall poor attempt, but I've seen worse...
In fact, 'Balu' was none other than the hideously wanted criminal Mat "Muffy the Umpire Flayer" Laycock. The letter is reproduced below, without the poison:
Dear Mr Sainz-Martinez
Congratulations for obtaining a place at Cambridge University and good
look with your studies.
Let me give you an advice: Look for the bare necessities, the simple bare
necessities. Forget about your worries and your strife. I mean the bare
necessities, old Mother Nature recipes that bring the bare necessities of
life.
Wherever I wander, wherever I roam I couldn't be fonder of my big home.
The bees are buzzin' in the tree to make some honey just for me.
When you look on the back of this letter and take a glance at the fancy
white powder there, then maybe try to touch a few bits. The bare
necessities of life will come to you. They'll come to you. Look for the
poison, the simple bare poison on this letter and forget about
your worries and your strife - cause it's over.
Now when you pick a pawpaw or a poisoned letter and you pick it up, next
time beware don't pick the letter up by the hand. When you pick it up, try
to use gloves.
I mean that's why a bear like me can rest at ease with just
his gloves over his claws. Have I given you a clue? A letter of an
assassin has come to you and if it wasn't enough to eliminate you, he'll
come to you personally, so that you can rest at ease.
So just try to relax, yeah cool it. Your body falls apart in the college
backyard cause let me tell you something, if you acted like everybody
acts, uh uh you're pickin' up a poisoned letter and didn't spend your
time lookin' around for gloves you want that can't be found, when you find
out that you can't open this letter and live without them. I'll tell you
something true: The white poison on this letter will deal with
you.
Forget about your worries and your strife
Balu
Maverick revenged himself on David "Dangerous Dave" Chow, proud murderer of Magdalene accomplices.
Maverick and The Ferret's Revenge eventually found some time to go on another little killing spree. First was a cautious member of trinity, who opened his door, but not enough for the inevitable head shot from The Magdalene Mafia. We then left heading for another trinity target, this was Dangerous Dave, the man who killed an innocent friend of ours and pursued us. However, we were better equiped this time, but this was not needed. As by chance he convieniently strolled past us, we recognised him instantly but he did not recognise us. As we passed Maverick pulled out his gun and shot him from close range twice in the back.
Another threat to the Magdalene Mafia neutralised.
Dangerous Dave wasn't overly impressed with his assassins' abilities:
While I was in my room this afternoon, someone knocked on the door to deliver a "Revelations" booklet. Fearing that it was another assassin, I decided to get ready to kill the person, before discovering that it was actually the real thing.
Leaving my room about 10 minutes later to go and hand in some work, I cautiously carried my trusty luminous green water pistol in my pocket, just in case anyone attacked me when I returned. About 40 seconds after leaving my room, I passed Maverick and The Ferret's Revenge walking in the opposite direction, on their way to attack me in my room. For a split second, I thought that one of them was Maverick, the assassin I had chased through the streets a week before, but my memory of his face wasn't good enough, as I'd only seen him running away from me before. After passing Maverick, I turned round to have another look, as he delivered 2 shots of a cap gun. Ouch.
It was complete chance that I happenned to pass my assassins just before they were planning to attack. Of course, Maverick and The Ferret's Revenge are complete amateurs at the game - they said that they'd try to repeat the tactics of the previous attack, which went horribly wrong. Surely a professional assassin would have learned from their mistakes and tried to bomb me instead, rather than taking the direct approach? What idiot would attempt an assassination with 2 accomplices like they did the first time? And what took them a whole 9 days to have another attempt at eliminating me? 24 hours after their previous attack, I'd already managed to get their real names and addresses, as well as other miscellaneous information (feel free to ask me yourselves if you're interested) from underground contacts and my own research, and was preparing to kill them myself. In fact, I waited outside Maverick's place before lectures last Tuesday, only to find no sign of him. How could professional assassins afford to leave their targets alone while they were in danger themselves?
The Trinity mafia goes on! The Magdalene mafia will be destroyed! Dangerous Dave will return at a later date!
The Magdalene Mafia made the following response:
Firstly how can someone who has just been killed by us call us amateurs. Secondly he had nine days to kill me, obviously didn't make it count, we were merely busy and didn't consider him to be a real threat. Thirdly we said we had amended our tactics to ambush him as he came running out of his room like an idiot, as he did last time. If he was any good he would have casually walked out of his room followed us and killed us, we didn't know what he looked like and wouldn't have noticed him come out of his room. Now he has paid the price!
The magdalene mafia are not to be messed with, as for a trinity mafia, I don't think there is one and if so it isn't too successful as I have killed two from trinity.
"The Horrible Rock Monster" placed a bomb on "Mrs Faithful's" door. The monster's report follows:
Last night i creept into college, searching for my target. I found his room and he was in, quietly i set up a bomb outside his room that would detonate when he opened the door. This done I knocked on the door and waited around the corner (out of the blast range) he opened the door and was shocked to discover that there was a bomb outside his door, but unfortunately the bomb did not detonate. Before i could get within range to shoot with my cap gun, he had got back into his room and locked his door. Not yet defeated I reset my bomb, this time using a more fail-safe detonator, and left, since i didn't think he would open his door again if i knocked, but I thought he might assume i had gone and taken my bomb with me, and eventually come out. An Hour later i returned to see if my bomb was still there, or if it had detonated. The bomb was gone, but i do not know if it detonated the second time or whether someone defused it for him from the outside. However this time he heard me outside his door as i arrived and i heard the lock turn in the door, and he turned his light out. I waited and waited, but he did not turn his light back on, and did not come out to face me, so eventually i left without knowing if my attempt had been successful.
Luckily for Mrs Faithful, a kindly neighbour decided to disarm it:
This evening (probably around 10) I heard strange noises outside my room and a knock on my door, so I demanded to know who was there, but when I received no reply, I returned to my desk, nevertheless prepaired for a raid. 15 min. or so later: again a knock on my door.
"Who's there?"
"Andy, your next door neighbour."
Knowing he wasn't playing I opened.
"You're in the assassins this term, right? Guess I just saved your life!" He pointed to a 2-litre bomb with a string, now standing outside my room in the corridor, which he had noticed to be attached to my door, so in an effort to save my life he had removed it.
I thanked him and took the dangerous device into my room, where I defused it - I'm still not sure how the detonator was actually meant to work, although I must say the label on the bomb was quite nice. The rest, however, was rather ugly, and it didn't do its job anyway.
Note: Innocents may not defuse bombs for players. In this case it was not the assassin's fault seeing as the innocent did it without the consent of the assassin. However try to avoid such occurences.
Mrs Faithful seems to be a very popular lady — but why would so many chaps be coming to her room?
Just about 15 min. ago (~10.50), motivated by events earlier this evening, I was about to perform a combat-defence simulation at my stronghold and unlocked the door. Unexpected noises from outside, however, prompted me to shut it again instantly, I reduced the light- level in my HQ, and a visual check confirmed my fears: unknown, dark people outside my room. On closer inspection there turned out to be at least two of them, one pointing his arm at my door in case it should open (like it would...), which slightly discouraged me from 'inviting them to tea and biscuits', as I would put it. They did not even ask me to open the door, and as I felt safe in my room and didn't open it, they left a few minutes later.
James "Beakachu" Wright slew Ruth "Mexico" Jackson and was in turn slain by "Cyrus". Beakachu begins the tale:
The Brown Avenger and I were in the Brown Cave forging our very own Cad. Having made a hat out of some Hatinum, and a brim out of some Brimstone, we set to work on the Cad itself. We had just completed the skellington when my naughty slave confessed that he had forgotten to purchase the Cadmium. The rascal's incompetence had jeopardised the entire project! I knew that if I did not kill again, soon, there was no telling what the Beak would make me do. I pulled the toilet chain to activate Brown Alert and leaped into the Water Closet to use it.
The Brown Avenger slipped into his stained cape whilst I just wore normal clothes like a normal person. The journey was long and perilous, and we were accosted by beggars at almost every step, but eventually we located the target's hovel. "Jesu be praised!" cried The Brown Avenger. "Silence! You always say that!" I replied while greedily giving him six of the best with a discarded Badmington racket, "No prunes for you, my lad!". The target's door was open, as was the door opposite; we heard empty-headed wenches talking within. The Brown Avenger and I hid on the stairs outside the door for a quarter of an hour, rummaging through the Sack of Dismay. But alas! before we had found the chosen instrument of naughtiness (an AK Twelvety-Seven), we espied a slithering rogue beginning to mount the steps. Hurriedly, I cried out "Ruth?" and, holding my beak, penetrated the fog-like stench of the wench's inner sanctum. The foolish Ruth stood up. And I shot her. I shot her dead.
The lady reports:
i have to report my exceedingly boring death. shot at point blank range through my own stupidity. i answered to my name and wandered out into the staircase, where i was shot.
a fellow assassin was coming up the stairs for tea and biccies and he professed ignorance of the game when questioned by my assassins. he then shot both of them for having weapons in full view.
For Beakachu had made now a fatal mistake...
The slime-coated warrior from downstairs impudently demanded to know what was going on. "You're not from the assassin's guild, are you?" I said. "No," he lied, extended a rotting, forked tongue and licking his slimy lips. That cad then went into the inner sanctum and returned with a small woman's revolver. Squealing with fear, I cowered by the door but it was too late. He pumped my befeather'd body full of lead, before turning to shoot the skidmarked corpse of the Brown Avenger. The last thing I saw before perishing was an exceedingly large Shoe-horne. Good day to you, Sir.
When Beakachu slew in the stories of old, He was gentle and brave, he was gallant and bold But now he has taken a shot to the beak. And scoundrels shall mourn him for many a week.
The demon-slayer reports:
Shot two assassins seen in College at point blank with a pistol in a random staircase (they had just completed another kill). One of them claimed not to be an assassin but both of them had revealed weapons (a bomb and a pistol).
In a fit of social reparation, wanted criminal Jamie "Lloyd" Douglass left a bomb for corrupt police Commander Sniper... but it killed old Sergei "Sham the Puffy Cat Virus" Lewis (A.K.A. NFG) instead. Lloyd reports:
Finding myself in Jesus, I decided to pay a visit to my hunter, Mario. I left a naughty little anti-personnel mine there, whih should provide some fun, though, since Im not sure about the power of these things, it may well only serve as a warning.
I also left him some mud. For a dirty copper.
The victim begins the tale of his role in the redecoration Mario's staircase in a tasteful shade of crimson, and the addition of several eye-catching new holes in the wall:
The ancient necromancer stirred sleepily in his chambers. Something was up. Something...
Ah, yes. It was that day again. The day when he must awaken. The day when he felt the need upon him. A good day indeed for someone else to die. Dum de dum. Gathering his weaponry about him, the NFG looked over his map of Cambridge. Jesus. Yes, Jesus College seemed like as good a place as any.
Wandering up through empty staircases, the NFG couldn't help but sigh. All
these new buildings they'd put up since his days.. no, he definitely liked
the old ways best.
"Who is it?"
"Hello. I have been asked to do a random selection survey. We have a
Mr. Gupta down for this room - is that correct? May I borrow a few moments
of your time?"
Well, it had worked in his days. Today's savvy youngsters don't trust anyone. NFG briefly considered stabbing the smiling young innocent who had opened the door in her friend's stead, but decided against it. Innocent blood just doesn't taste the same.
The NFG sensed sudden movement to his right, and stabbed just as the door of the ajacent room opened. Ah yes, this was more like it.. a worthy opponent; much as a badger's warren has many exits, so these rooms. After some considerable slash and parry, the tired fighters declared a truce, and a somewhat tired NFG came in for a cuppa. Not bad for an old wizard's evening..
His assistant, the beautiful Lina Inverse, continues the story:
This is the beautiful sorcery genius Lina Inverse!
*drumroll*
reporting my first attempt at murder most foul.
I left with my colleague (who shall remain nameless) and we went with all speed to a certain College, where a target of my friends' was known to exist. He lived in a nasty place to try and get since all the rooms are interconnected. I was going to tell my friend this but *heh* I forgot. Oops.
Aaanyway, I waited underneath the stairs while he knocked on the door, and made some (feeble) excuses as to why he was there. I kept trying to tell him more plausible ones but he wasn't listening to me. After the two tried to stab each other, I slipped quietly and stealthily up the stairs and shot at my friend's target; I made sure he was still waving his knife around. Well, somebody must've jogged me, because I missed.
The target turned out to be a very nice person and we had a drink (not poisoned) in his room before setting out once more. This time we went to a place where a criminal lived - the wanted Mario Sainz-Martinez. He would not live long once I got there. Of course, he wasn't in.
Our hopes dashed, (I wish criminals and targets would be more cooperative), we made a bomb and placed it at his door. We took turns covering the other with my big, big crossbow and it was during his turn that my colleague moved the wastepaper bin and set off a nasty landmine. I did my best to heal him, but he was too thoroughly perforated to live.
"Lina Inverse" executed the highly wanted corrupt Police Commander Mario "Sniper" Sainz-Martinez. Following on from the night's previous adventures, "Lina" reports:
It really annoys me when people set things to kill me. Or my friends. After Sergei's death, I poisoned our bomb - liberally - and the detonator and, since I found enough of it lying around, I recreated and reset the nasty little thing that was underneath the bin. I hope it kills someone else, preferably a baddie but anyone will do.
I made no more attempts since I wanted to get my friend to hospital to find out if he was going to survive. But if Mario is still alive then he hasn't heard the last of all this.
This deadly little anti-personnel shrapnel mine was indeed sucessfully reset, and shortly afterwards did for the ex-SWAT-commander "Sniper". More importantly, it resulted in the completion of this phase of the Jesus College Building Works project — successfully embedding numerous shrapnel shards in the walls and ceiling, whilst continuing the traditional pulverised-chunks-of-flesh-and-blood motif:
Looks like my life expectancy has expired. I just returned from shopping to find yet another bomb at my door. A quick inspection revealed a single tension-activated detonator attached to my doorhandle, and abundant (yet clear) contact poison. I carefully pushed my bin away with my foot so I could get a better look at the bomb, and finding no other devices, I proceeded to cut the activation string, and went inside to get some gloves. With them on, I removed the detonator and the explosives from my door, and as I lifted the bin to put it back in its place, a pressure-sensitive detonator went off. At that time it was too far away to set off the explosives, but it did vaporise my left hand, and impel thousands of razor-sharp fragments of metal into my body, so the issue is moot.
"Delerium" tried his hand at doorbombing; "Slaine" was the intended victim. These delerious doodelings were received shortly afterwards:
Rain washed down on the streets of Cambridge, and Delirium delved into the murky morning. As the early morning light glimmered on the streets, her well-equipped figure made its way into Pembroke.......
.....the first person to see flashing lights and pretty colours shall be Slaine, whose door was carefully connected to an artfully made bomb. that should be a pretty explosion
But that was not to be. Slaine retells it like it was:
I awoke to find a small explosive device attached to my door. Yet as I slowly investigated the prospect of any triggers attached to the door handle, I noticed a CUT trigger mechanism!
Later investigations revealed that another member of the non-existent Pembroke Mafia had infact seen the device as he walked past my door and defused it for me... Very kind :)
"Delerium's" quest continued with the assassination of Nidhi "Greenomonster" Mohnot...
.....the second person to see flashing lights and pretty colours shall be Nidhi Mohnot, whose dreams will be enhanced by the (surprisingly blueberry-like) gas in her room....though she shall never wake from them.... .....and as evere, delirium dashed away into the misty morning
From beyond the grave, Greenomonster delivered these words:
ok. i'm dead. it was a very cunning kill, though, i must admit. i stepped out of my room for just TWO measly minutes and when i re-entered my room, the *pungent* blueberry muffin poison gas sent me into convulsions. strangely enough, i dreamt about waking up this morning and having a strange smell in my room as well ... it was definitely an omen. hmmm. anyhow, i am now dead.
"The Shadow" left a noxious little present for "The Mole":
I've just left a CUSU Little Black Book, the underside leaning down and smeared with a terrible poison, in the pigeonhole of one unfortunate mole of St John's College. I do not see how he can possibly avoid such a dastardly trap, and look forward to hearing of his demise.
* laughing manically *
Alas, for the cautious chap knew it for what it was:
Yesterday another amateur attempt on my life was made by the assassin called Shadow. I regret to inform him that bright yellow contact poison on a letter in the pigeonholes is rather visible, and hence I am still alive. Sorry, Shadow. Please try again :)
"Captain Caveman" made a practical application of chemistry in his attempt to kill the "SvenskMoose" and "Greenomonster". The Caveman tells all:
Although Chemistry practicals are an (allegedly) important part of the course, I still managed to find time to drop in a pair of poison letters whilst going past Pembroke college. Hopefully at least one will work (having used a (supposedly) cunning method to ensure the recipients' demise). May they rest in (green and hopefully rotting) pieces.
PS Devils' night's not far away......
PPS Any assassins thinking of going near John's..... don't.
But the Caveman's primitive cunning was no match for the Moose's care:
Naturally suspicious of anything from that arrives through ICMS, I examined the bizarre little-envelope-stuck-to-big envelope package before touching it and sure enough there was what looked like contact poison (Pritt Stick) on the outside of the envelope. Admittedly the ICMS service is so crap they ought to be killed, but this is going *too* far.
With the aid of my trusty tool (a ball-point pen that long ago ceased to function) I prised apart the two envelopes. Sure enough, just to insult my intelligence, "Captain Caveman" had labelled the contact poison as such and signed it.
Indeed, even Greenomonster's ghost refused to fall for these letters:
i actually had TWO attempts on my life today. the second one was in the form of a very-heavily poisoned envelope pasted, by vaseline, to the front of a large brown envelope. this, however, was not as successful an attempt because the assassin smeared only the flap of the envelope which i did not touch because the vaseline was very visible. thus, i took extra precaution in lifting the white envelope off as well, since i had a faint suspicion it was from an assassin. all of this really does not matter, though, because i was already dead by the time i got to my pigeonhole. so long, captain caveman.
Dangerous Jim went hunting today... and caught an Alan "Deadly Fluffy Wuffy Bunnykins" Harper.
Today Alan Harper became the first victim of dangerous Jim. He made the schoolboy error of opening his door without asking who was there and paid the price. I was also invited to a "fair" battle with Sally from Queens', but unfortunately have to decline: maybe some other time o devious one.
Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, here comes the farmer with his gun...
Knock, Knock,
Who's there?
Man with gun
Man with gun who? <opens door>
BANG!
OH DAMNATIONS!
I am the weakest Assasin, Goodbye
"The Mole", himself a recent recipient of malignant mail, attempted to kill "Slaine" with yet more poisoned letters.
Fiendish.
Satanic.
Evil.
Oh yes.
Having received several amateur attempts on my life through the post, I felt I could have a go. After all, if these could be lethal, what could I dream up?
Sadly, TV has destroyed my imagination. Oh well. A poisoned letter awaits my target.....
Bwah ha haaa.
The trouble with poisoned letters, is that they very seldom work. You'd think most assassins would have noticed this trend by now, but alas...
I returned this afternoon to check my mail, only to find that some quite blatant contact poison had been smeared on my mail.... yet the portion nearest me seemed untouched and so could easily be handled carefully; whence I placed it in a protective "newspaper" to investigate back at my secret underground lab......
Most interesting..... Better luck next time....
"Mrs. Faithful" made Tim "Mr. Cool" Redding pay for his incautiousness.
Having checked out my targets lair earlier this afternoon, when his absence saved his life, I decided to return to his room when I was passing through Johns again later on. Some time between 5 and 6 (probably around 5.17, but I'm not sure) I climbed the stairs to his room, still not too sure what to do should I find him unwilling to open his door (for I had seen light in his room from below). Knowing one door on the way to make an alarming noise, I approached his corridor on an alternative route through a labyrinth of kitchens and bathrooms, still pondering how to lure him out of safety (I had discarded the poisoned tea & biccies idea earlier). But then - oh! - I couldn't believe my luck: his door was unlocked! I grapped the small pistol I had testfired and loaded earlier, glanced along the corridor to find it deserted, and then stormed into his room, one quick look around, he was sitting on his bed, looking surprised, he jumped when I pointed my gun at him, but too late - a single shot to the chest wounded him mortally, he slumped quietly down, a mess for his bedder to clean up. With his last breath he resented his carelessness of not having locked his door - I'm sure he won't make that mistake again.
"Archangel" shot his fleeing assassin Chris "Prof." Moriaty in the back:
A knock was heard outside my door, which apparently turned out to be an assassin asking one of my neighbours to knock on my other neighbour's door. My first neighbour refused to come out of his room, and the assassin turned away disappointed.
I armed myself with a cap gun and charged, shooting him as he was descending down the stairs. He refused to tell me his name even at his dying breath, so i shrugged and returned to the privacy of my room. Let this be a lesson to people who disturb other's peace.
There's an important lesson here: always watch your back when you know you've left assassins behind...
It is with great regret that I inform you of my death at the hands of "Archangel."
I was assigned him and his neighbour to kill and so knocked on his door and asked him to knock on his friends' door so he would not be alarmed. I pretended that I didn't think he knew anything of the game and convinced him that I wanted to kill his neighbour. Unfortunately the two of them have a pact because he told me his neighbour was out and when I was leaving someone shot me with a cap gun. I then heard him talk to my other target.
The rabid butcher of policemen known as Mat "Muffy the Umpire Flayer" Laycock has struck once more. The latest to fall is PC Razor, who reports:
I had been concentrating my aggressive efforts on criminal Jamie with at least two visits to his door, because he hadn't shown much interest in getting involved with the inter-criminal brawl, but he did end up killing Mario indirectly so maybe it was fate.
Anyway this evening when I thought they had almost forgotten me I walked up the stairs towards my floor (8-10) rooms and turned towards the toilet when Muffy jumped out and shot me and my companion, he was lucky- on another day I may not have returned for hours. This indiscriminate killing of anyone in the area is dispicable, I did not realise he would stoop so low.
What is the world coming to these days? Only one policeman left in the entire City! The criminal element is in, well, its element - but sources indicate that this might soon change, thanks to a massive new police recuitment drive.
"Captain Caveman" gunned down Jenna "Merykare" Spellane and Colin "Despair" Magee in response to their attempt on "Archangel". The intended victim reports:
I was in my room enjoying the wonders of Dynamics, when a knock was heard outside my door. I ignored it for some time, and the person knocking on my door left.
I continued to ignore this, until i heard bags being opened. Bombs. Amateurs. Oh well.
I came out charging, shooting at point-blank range, and after half a second or two, my assailant, who was about 2 metres away, fired shots at me (although my assailant argued that we fired our guns simultaneously).
We then realised that our Glocks, being cap guns, are rather short range weapons. I retreated to the safety of my room. I then heard more shots.
These were, apparently, shots fired by my neighbour, Captain Caveman. The assailant, with his accomplice, were weilding guns so they were legitimate targets.
I then went outside of my room to have a chat with these dying assassins.
The justabitwanted Mat "Muffy the Umpire Flayer" Laycock has murdered the force's last remaining policeman, PC Bud White, and deleted all criminal records. More importantly, Cambridge's recently discovered tourist attraction, "The Half House", has mysteriously vanished; only a pile of rubble remains where it once stood. Investigators are baffled as to what might have happened. This from PC White's overactive spirit:
Alas the half house is now the non existent house, Muffy finished the job he started. When you are trapped in your room with a 2 litre bomb on the outside and no means of contacting other assassins, things don't look good! But the better more deceitful assassin won and I wish him well in his new life away from the watchful but not very active eyes of the law.
With the entire constabulary now six feet under, local criminals were able to force entry into Police Headquarters, and indulge in a spot of larcony, arson, and donut consumption. All criminal information records were destroyed in the blaze; "Muffy" and "Lloyd" have removed themselves from the wanted list, and destroyed all trace of their criminality.
Traffic Policeman "Editor" has rid the world of the incompetent Robert "Nobody" Ennals.
There was congestion in the King's cafeteria queue today. There is no such thing as "off duty" for hard-working traffic policemen like me, so I immediately stepped in to solve the problem.
"Keep moving! Nothing to see here! Nobody is dead! Nobody is lying on the floor with half a dozen stab wounds in the back! Keep moving!"
This hardworking member of the Transport Police has more than earned his promotion to the hallowed rank of "Speed Camera Repairman."
"bh234" crept out, limpet-like, from his hiding place, and tried to assassinate poor Harland Quinn. The following twisted verse was found lurking at the scene:
While awandering the Downing Site,
I spied a Harland Quinn.
So, I thought, we'll have a fight,
One I would surely win.
Behind him I stood,
A-waiting to stab.
But then the bugger,
Went into a lab.
Oh well.
Traffic Policeman Dilemma gunned down the wanted incompetent Louise Mary "Bubbles" Davies thusly:
Having a few spare moments between lunch and a 2pm supervision I decided to pay the newly wanted criminal, Bubbles a visit. On approaching her Jesus stronghold I realised that the sentries had deserted their posts, and the main gates were wide open. Entering her unlocked citadel I found her sending a text message on her mobile. She must have realised that my gun was levelled at her as she looked up. Her eyes shone like a rabbit's facing an oncoming juggernaut. "Oh no!" she squealed. When faced with killing an unarmed incompetent female there is no dilemma for this officer; choose the way of the gun. A corpse now occupies the room where Bubbles once lived and breathed. The police force open their arms in anticipation to welcome a new recruit.
Traffic Policeman Dilemma is now "Speed Camera Repairman Dilemma."
Traffic Policeman Ribena leads the long arm of the law down onto Joseph "Sergeant Pumpernickel" Zuntz.
As I rose from the grave this morning I felt a little stiff. As theearly morning rigor morits wore of I armed myself for the day ahead, and headed off for a lecture. I noticed the target who my sources had reavealed as incompetent, and watched. I could not strike until the order for his arrest came. So I spent the lecture making weapons.
After lunch, I felt ready for action, so proceded to the fugitives room. Where I heard a voice from a past life. I calmly opened the door, and repeatedly shot Mr Zuntz in the upper body. I then turned to his friend, hoping he would attempt to retaliate. But he remained calm, and weaponless. So I turned, and walked of into the night.
(yes, I know it was braod daylight, but that isn't as dramatic.)
Traffic Policeman Ribena has been promoted to "Speed Camera Repairman," in recognition of his sterling work.
Acting Chief "Incorruptible" assassinated another incompetent, this time the "Chark", Charmaine Coutinho. The acting chief reports:
The wanted criminal Charmaine "Chark" Coutinho is no more. As she went out of her room this afternoon, she was shot repeatidly and ruthlessly.
Ahhh, the sweet odour of blood... the sweet view of blood...
*glazingeyes*
ahem...
Needless to say the job was executed with regrets. But well, the police must do their job...
The victim elaborates:
after a period of recovery due to unforseen run in with a trawler ship otherwise known as a volvo estate in the deepest waters of Leeds, the chark had been plotting and scheming carefully in an aim to take out all her targets on the deadline date. however a display of decadence on wednesday eveing put a stop to the above aims being carried out on the aforementioned day and led to the general wanted-for-incompetence-ness. result - assassination after a heavy lunch (lowered the getaway skills) by bullet and immediate death. injury to the opposition was achieved so the legacy (or what would have been) of the cold-blooded one lives on.
previous attempts have failed - prize for the lamest attempt goes to another unknown who sat in my room for a while doing nothing. at least my incompetence was stylish.
Acting-Chief Claire Bordenave has been reinstated as Commander-In-Chief of the Cantabulary.
Speed Camera Repairman "Editor" has dealt with the incompetent Julian "Crispman" Hunt.
I went to Bishop Bateman's Court in order to check up on wanted criminal Julian Hunt. I asked a neighbour to help the local law enforcement fight crime, more specifically to knock on his door for me. She agreed, and while I was waiting for her to finish a phone call I positioned myself next to the target's door, gun in hand. At this point Julian Hunt walks out of said door. He paid for his bad timing by being shot three times at close range.
The transport policeman then made to find several other wanted criminals, all of whom were already dead. Nethertheless, Editor has now attained the heady rank of "Ticket Inspector."
"Archangel" demonstrates diffusion and inelastic collisions to Chris "I-will-eat-you" Morton:
I was, once again, in the serene atmosphere of my room, still doing Dynamics. A knock was heard outside my door. Looking outside my spyhole i see a person wielding an H&K MP-5. I ignored this person.
He came around once more about half an hour later, wearing a St. John The Evangelist's College's beanie, leaning his head against my spyhole. "It's Paddy. Have you done Vector Calculus?", he said (with a voice distinctively not Paddy's).
I equipped myself with a gas mask and sprayed nerve gas as i opened the door. He fired a shot at the gap of my door in the process, but alas for him, i was behind the door and his face was 0.25 metres from my nerve gas cannister.
He muttered his name as 'i-will-eat-you' at his dying breath. I then went back to my work, having another assassin disposed of.
Speed Camera Repairman 'Dilemma' brought the reign of Jon 'Gringo' Reynaga to an end. The valient traffic police officer describes his afternoon as follows:
The bastion of chaos that is K staircase at Sidney Sussex College was breached with exceeding ease this afternoon. Having disposed of Bubbles earlier, I had left my supervision with a fresh taste for justice. The staircase required a numerical code for entrance, so I did as all bad ass speed camera repairmen do; interrogate the porter. Five rolls of gaffer tape, copious amounts of honey and hundreds of duck feathers later, I had the code. I was amazed to find the door to his room wide open; it couldn't have been more open and more inviting. The wanted criminal was hunched over a laptop. "Reynaga" I said. He turned and saw what a terrible position he had left himself in. He had no weapon, he admitted as such, but when his left hand twitched, my handcannon spoke in the language that all understand; death. So another triumph for the Traffic Division; long may it continue.
I also went to Robinson and managed to kill Chris Morton, for the third time today apparently; what a shame!
For his noble deeds, the police officer has been awarded the title "Ticket Inspector."
"Iceman" hacked around with the corpse of Jenna "merrykare" Spellane. He reports:
Having just been to visit a few of the trinity wanted, the only one i managed to find was Jenna Spellane, she claimed to have been killed last night, but there is no sign of this on the web site. I decided there was no harm in shooting a dead person, so shot her just to make sure i wasn't being conned.
Unfortunately for the man of ice, he wasn't being conned. Merrykane has already snuffed it on Thursday evening.
Ticket Inspector "Dilemma" and Traffic Policeman "Bud White" together took care of Lucy "Lucifer" McWilliam, and had a go at Etienne "Ich will sterben, Je veux mourir, Quiero morir" Chatenay on the way. Their squad report follows:
Emmanuel's Finest Traffic Police aka Ticket Inspector Dilemma and Traffic Policeman Bud White went out tonight with GATSO gun and ticket book in hand. Unfortunately we drew a blank at the residence of Lazy; he was in and attempted to gas us, but open windows and gas masks rendered that attempt useless.
two assassins are waiting for me outside my door i gassed the corridor and I have not seen any gas msk on their face, would you be kind enough to check with thos fools if they wouldn't actuaally be dead without them noticing
We had luck at the house of Lucifer. A simple ring of the bell and a minute later the door was open. "Lucy McWilliam?" I asked. The answer was in the affirmative and we proceeded to empty rounds into her beating heart. It was messy, and the fallen angel was no more. I don't think they get bedders in these houses, so it may be a while before someone discovers the body.
Traffic Policeman Bud White is off to the capital this weekend to acquire new munitions. With new supplies the Traffic Division will wreak havoc whenever wanted criminals leave their cars on double yellow lines or exceed the speed limit in a pedestrianised area.
Dilemma has been granted that most hallowed of titles, "Traffic Warden." "Bud White" has likewise been promoted to the rank of "Speed Camera Repairman."
The deadly "Viper" destroyed the incompetent Navin "John Galt" Dasigi.
A bomb has been planted at the door of Navin Dasigi at 1:20am (10/2/01). The bomb is 1.5litres (3.5m radius, deduct 1m for the door and as he will be holding the door it will certainly get him) and will detonate as soon as the door moves. There is also a decoy fuse attached to the door handle, his room is on its own at the top of a staircase so no-one should pass it and no innocents will be injured in the blast tomorrow. The detonater has been well tested and it is impossible to defuse the bomb from inside the room, it is also very difficult to defuse the bomb from outside especially if you are unfamiliar with the device.
The device was sucessful, and Mr. Dasigi suffered his first death of the day.
PC Brown Avenger made sure of things by pumping the corpse of Navin "John Galt" Dasigi full of lead:
I woke up last night, cold and stinking, in the city morgue. After I unzipped the body bag surounding my stiff flesh and pushed open the steel drawer, I saw incredulously that I was dressed in the brown cape and helmet of an orificer of the law. The memory of my death was fresh. The brownlust was fully upon me.
I pulled out sliding metal coffins until I found the uniformed body of Beakachu. His beak snapped open and shut once and he awoke. Even as he examined his feathered uniform he told a mad tale of necromancy and treachery; the two bullet-holes in my torso had seemingly been put there when Beakachu used my putrid and skidmarked corpse as some sort of puppet on a series of unholy suicide missions.
But the time for vengeance was over; now the time had come for justice. In the breast pocket of my standturd-issue jacket was a roll of toilet paper, holding upon its slightly stained surfaces the name and location of every known criminal in Cambridge. Among these were many fools indeed, but the one called 'John Galt' was chosen for his most childish and facetious name.
Enlisting the help of the unenthusiastic Indifferent Dave, Beakachu and I selected suitable instruments of punishment and travelled through the winturd night, to an evil tower outside Trinity where Galt was believed to soil his incompetent pants daily. When we arrived, I knew that last to be true; the Smell was strong here, almost as strong as in the Brown Cave itself, but this odour was one of weakness, not of consistency and fibre, so it was with confidence that we entered his lair.
Indifferent Dave went up alone to borrow Galt's maths notes, and as quickly as Beakachu and I climbed the slippery and odorous steps, there was no window of opportunity and we were forced to squat outisde. But the landing was so narrow that someone looking through the poop-hole could see everything and our mission was soon aborted.
Rage in my bowels, I knew I would see that cad dead by the end of the week. I vowed to forgo sleep and instead assemble a small one-man base, complete with flamethrower, outside the ground-floor door to Galt's despicable spire. This I did, knowing that Galt would have to evacuate his intestines, and hence his room, eventually. The rapscallion had previously told Indifferent Dave that he would be going on an important-sounding army-related training course that morning. I anticipated an early start - Operation Durchfall was fully underway by 6 A.M.
Fortunately I had cultivated the skill of patience during my countless battles with the foul Constipat-Or. With nothing more than the blueprints of Cambridge's sewer system to entertain me, I waited. I waited for an hour. And then I waited for another hour. Truly the brownlust had built up to near-intolerable levels, and for the final forty minutes I was only able to stop myself assaulting the door to his room by painfully recalling my demise at the hands of the dastardly Purple Lady.
At last, at twenty to nine, after many false alarms and nearly three hours, I heard sounds almost certainly made by my victim-to-be. His uncautious feet clunked down the tower's stairs; I quickly concealed myself in the bathroom, home to so many of my fondest memories. The ground-floor door to the tower opened, and a hideous, half-nude human stepped through it. The knave had underestimated his redeemer, apparently intending to take a shower in the morning. *Nobody* takes a shower while the Brown Avenger is on duty.
I farted and squeezed the trigger to the flamethrower. Flaming gouts of my special-recipe napalm flew forth and enveloped Galt; he screamed, frantically flailing his burning limbs as if he thought it would achieve something. Within ten seconds he had leapt through the open bathroom window with a stoolcurdling shriek of agony. Very soon, a sickening, crunching thud cut off his cries. I dismantled my base and left that stinking hellhole.
As I greedily fled, I granted a passing glance to the sticky remains of Galt. His charred and smashed corpse left no doubt as to his condition: terminated.
Alas that this was the case even before the Brown Avenger's efforts.
Traffic Warden "Dilemma" clamped down on Eleni "Mata Hari" Gouliou:
After making life miserable for the infidels who continue to park on double yellow lines and not buy their parking tickets, this traffic warden "fell down" just as D-FENS once did. Justice was done when Master of Law, Mata Hari was left dead in her room. After a neighbour allowed me into her hall I found her keys to be in her lock. Knocking politely, I informed her that her keys were in the lock. She saw through me and attempted to gas me, but for some reason her cannister didn't fire and my pocket rocket did the rest.
Traffic Warden "Dilemma" went out dinosaur hunting... and found the now extinct Jack "Horny Protoceratops" Rudd.
A frontal approach was also tried at the Girton residence of Horny Protoceratops. I knocked, and if I'd taken my time, would have killed him instantly if my shot had not been wayward. Never one to be put off by such a failure, I tried an alternative method, skirting round the outside of the building to his window. I saw him sitting at his desk, wracking his brains over a mathematics problem. My luck was in, as his window was half an inch open. Readying my gun, I raised the window and shot. My aim was true this time and his lungs breathed their last.
May I take this opportunity to remind all officers that incompetents should not be pitied. If we just sit around eating donuts all day, and don't follow the motto "To Protect and to Serve", we will ourselves be seen to be incompetent.
In recognition of the miserable end he has made of so many lives, this motorist's bane, the steadfast Traffic Warden "Dilemma", has been promoted to the rank of "Traffic Planner."
"Delirium" carefully assassinated Roy "Slaine" Poulton. The assassin reports:
As Delirium was strolling through Pembroke one fine february afternoon, she happened to identify Slaine strolling past in the other direction.....visions of death and murder flooded through her mind, but she managed to keep them under control until the black-clad warrior had walked past....whence with a cackle she shot him in the back, thus helping the "Non-Existent Pembroke Mafia" live up to its name....and slipped away from the bloody corpse into the wilds of the fiefdom of Heffers
Slaine had this to say:
Wandering wearily in the middle of the night that is 11:45am on a Saturday. I passed a group of supposed "friends" - greetings were exchanged and nothing more thought before a dull then sharp pain was felt to emanate from my back.... Three bullets in the back an unfortunate way to die; a cowardly way to kill; mutterings of a name ... Delirium ..... everything grey now........
"Echo" tried a poisoned letter on "Lina Inverse", who reports:
I got a letter this morning in my pigeonhole. It appeared very innocuous and not at all dangerous, but I have not been an assassin for the past 10 terms without learning /something/. Even if it's just how to die well.
I didn't bother with gloves for opening it, instead I asked my faithful chimera to do so, and he agreed (knowing the possibility of poison). Lucky! For me, 'cos it was poisoned with the faintest trace of white powder. I never touched it.
Sorry, Echo. You'll have to visit my house if you want to kill me.
"The Welsh Witch", Rachel Sara Borysiewicz, appears to have been anonymously murdered. Police are appealing for witnesses to come forward.
More than half of the game's players are dead; those who remain alive must make a good attempt on one or more of their targets in the period between 9th February (last Friday) and Saturday 17th February, 23:59, in order to avoid being made wanted for incompetence.
Stu "Harland Quinn" Gill tried to blow up the Shiela and her Dogge Society, but failed, on account of the paranoid vigilance of its other members. In Quinn's own words:
It seemed to me that Sheila fluff,
Was a perfect opportunity for,
Attracting the assassins and the police,
In through my own front door.
The preparations began quite early Sunday,
As my neighbours amassed the spread.
While I sat there happily constructing a bomb,
And the bison grazed under my bed.
A thirty eight litre bomb, it appeared,
Would have a blast of twelve metres or so,
I placed the bomb under my desk,
As it was the only place left it could go.
The timer was set for ten minutes past ten,
And would go off with me alive or dead.
The plan was to go for an urgent phone call,
And leave Sheila blown up, but well fed.
Sad to say, that the CoP left,
At just five minutes past ten,
So I promptly got up and disarmed the bomb,
If they're not dying, I'm not going to then!
The night proceeded quite well after that,
No blood was spilt in the end.
Though we did have much chocolate, and stories were told,
And I introduced my bison friend.
That's all for now, but it's not quite the end,
As I have lived to tell of the tale.
I'll unleash a stampede in a bar near you,
And oh what fun will regail!
Chief-of-Constabulary "Incorruptible" just happened to be there...
Sunday night 8pm. The time had come to start a most difficult undercover operation for the Cantabulary. Namely, going to the abode of the vile criminal Harland Quinn MA in order to try and execute him. The Sheila meeting was indeed taking place in his room...
In order to appear as little suspicious as possible (quite a difficult task when you're the CoP actually) the weaponry had been carefully chosen : an innocent-looking penguin was thus selected to be weapon of choice against Master Gill. Of course, a deadly tomahawk had been cunningly hidden inside it.
So, a bit unsure about going into a death-trap but confident in the weapon, i headed towards Clare Colony with some friends.
Stu welcomed us warmly (despite the presence of a mounted CPS-1500
in his window) and then introduced us to his stampede buffalo...
*ahem*
Well at least (i thought) i knew the enemy.
However, things started getting odd at half-time. First, we had to change rooms. We thus ended in Stu's room where hot chocolate, coffee and biscuits were abundantly provided.
Taking advantage of Stu's innatention i managed to snatch and hide his bison *grin*
Seeing Stu seemed to have nothing else of use on him i thought the game was done.
But well you see, it was Stu's place.
With connected balconies.
With hidden weaponry.
And with dangerous accomplices.
Thus his accomplice managed to get his hands on my penguin and immediately noticed the handle of the tomahawk. Damn !
As the end of the meeting was approaching, Stu was getting nervous, asking for the time. Just before 10pm he suddenly got up taking his mobile phone.
It then occured to me that there was a rather big box under his side table. Oops.
But my accomplice was already shouting : "there's a bomb ! Out while it's still time ! ". To my despair, i had no choice but to leave : the hideous criminal was ready to sacrifice a large number of innocents in order to avenge his eventual death !!!
At least Clare College will be grateful as this probably saved them the cost of rebuilding Castle House.
Chris "Viper" Maher foolhardily knifed the incautious Mat "Muffy the Umpire Flayer" Laycock, and was himself gored to death by his intended target. The following is from Viper:
Having gained my first sighting of Matt 'Muffy the Umpire Flayer' Laycock on friday afternoon I hatched a plan to kill him over the weekend (whilst I amused myself by planting a bomb for Navin Dasigi of Trinity, that will teach the trinity mafia to be so cocky). Having selected my weapon this morning I set out constantly aware that I was his target and he could be around any corner. I lay in wait for him as I thought he was due to finish his lab, but he did not appear, I ventured up to the lab and just as I read that this was the time for his lab to start he appeared behind me. Alas this was out of bounds so I left safe in the knowledge that i would be waiting for him when he left. I noticed a suspicious glance that he gave me, but came to the conclusion that he was still not certain of who I was.
I then waited outside of his lab, having removed the coat I was wearing earlier, this changed my appearance and was a convienient way of concealing my weapon (a deadly knife - glow in the dark AND retractable blade, impressive or what?). However, I was growing impatient, I wanted the kill, so again i ventured up to the lab, this time I spotted him at the far end wearing the hat he had on before (a DEAD giveaway). I hurried back down to my position and waited, whilst pretending to read some random poster. I spotted him coming down the stairs, through the doors and that was it he was in the legal playing field.
I drew my knife from under my coat and lunged forward, only he saw it and lunged forward with the knife he had in his hand already (although not as impressive as his was a pen and didn't glow in the dark). As my knife plugged into his rib cage I felt a sharp agonising pain as his knife got my rib cage, blood was everywhere we fell to the ground our knives dropped to the floor. Summoning all of my efforts I tried to grab the knife on the floor to finish him off, but it was too late I was dead, but so was he. If only I had used the gun!
Coroners searching Viper's corpse found forged documents, allowing the hitman to assume the identities of Maverick and Iceman.
Lest we forget, the Magdalene Mafia is not finished yet. The following was received from their offical spokesman, The Ferret's Revenge:
Just a reminder to all. The Maverick might be dead, but the Magdalene mafia lives on. We will carry on his work, we will avenge his death in brutal and occassionally amusing ways. We still have no respect for reputation; we strike hard, and we run quickly in the other direction just incase we missed.
Tonight, Maverick's body lies in state dressed in his ceremonial yellow SprayWay. Prayers will be said for his black soul across the land. And may good god in heaven help you if you're on the wanted list when he comes back as a police man - this guy's obsessive!
The assassin known as Onion Budgie has been discharged from hospital with a clean bill of health. A spokesman described the case as "touch-and-go" from the very beginning, when the Budgie was found splayed out in the bottom of his cage. Forsensic work placed responsibility on a strange substance found upon the door-handle of Budgie's cage, initially thought to be deadly contact poison. After several day's intensive care, however, the Budgie found the energy to preen itself, and soon afterwards Dr. Rolf Harris was able to declare an apparently complete recovery. The origins of the substance remain unknown — but surely no assassin would use a contact poison that would not kill instantly?
More tales from bh234:
bh234 proceded to Queens' in an attempt to find people to slay. Sadly, he couldn't. Oh well. Onwards to the bar for Plan B (find drunken assassins, kill them) where he narrowly escaped a buffalo stampede. As innocent geneticists were trampled underfoot, bh234 glimpsed a screaming, laughing Harland Quinn. The man is a maniac and should be disposed of, preferably when he doesn't have wild animals with him.
Baldrick helped usher Paddy "Manhatten" Goodlet along to an entirely new perspective on life:
In order to kill my target, John Goodlet of Paddy's, I had devised a cunning plan involving waiting outside his lectures disguised as a turnip, and then shooting peas at him whehn he emerged. Sadly, the price of turnips is high at the moment so I just had to find him and shoot him. I told him he was dead, which seemed obvious even to a person of my abilities, and he said "ok" and attempted to carry on walking.... but didn't get far.
And so the John's mafia is down by one more...
Traffic Planner "Dilemma" executed the incompetent and non-quite-so-masterful assassin Stu "Harland Quinn" Gill. The hardworking planner reports:
After a hard day of arranging complex park and ride schemes and one way traffic flows through Caius College, I decided that it was time to gain an education in life, and where better to go than the Genetics Department? Speed Camera Repairman Bud White joined me in an entertaining lecture on the development of Drosophila. Sitting in the lecture theatre we observed the entrance of none other than the infamous Master Assassin, Harland Quinn. Not only was there a wanted criminal present, but also subversive assassin bh234. Would he help defend Harland Quinn if weapons were drawn? Bud White was keen on an OK Corrall gunfight, but there was no certainty that we would prevail as Wyatt Earp had. Hence we used our traffic planning skills to full effect, diverting rush hour traffic through the Downing Site at 5mph. Chaos ensued outside as we sat listening to the lecturer.
The lecture over, Bud White left with Gatso gun in hand to secure the Tennis Court Road exit, while I waited on Downing Street. The traffic was gridlocked and prevented Harland Quinn from leaving quickly in his helicopter. It was unable to land, so he had to depart on foot. Picking him up easily due to his blue hair (had he appeared in an episode of the Simpsons?) he tried to escape unnoticed along Corn Exchange Street. His efforts did not go undetected, as a speed camera clocked him at 3mph (wind assisted) along the straight. As he entered the market square he greeted a female companion and went into Marks and Spencers for some groceries. A fellow assassin and accomplice perhaps? Biding my time, safe in the knowledge that by now his guard would be down, I patiently waited outside. Minutes later he emerged, and as all good traffic planners do when tailing a wanted criminal, I shot him in the back. His death speaks volumes of the lengths the Traffic Policeforce will go to to get their man.
The man concerned has this to say:
From my five 'til six lecture I ran through the town,
To get home for I had to be changed,
Into togs for a dinner at seven pm,
At Newhall or so I'd arranged.
I just hadn't counted on one noble policeman,
Hanging around the market square,
So, as I and Sam proceeded through town,
I got shot in the back halfway there.
My congratulations go to Simon for,
His attack on my criminal self,
I apologise for not staying around,
But I have an appointment in ten minutes and twelve.
I wonder what it was that gave me away,
Was it the skipping or the hair of blue?
I must now depart for the old Spanish Train,
Is a calling.
Dilemma's sterling work has earned him the highest position in the Land that can be held by a Traffic Policeman; all rise for the new Lord Protector of the Parking Space, Defender of the Streets, Warden of the Yellow Lines, and Grand High Issuer of Tickets, by the Grace of God, the most puissant Simon Ford of Dilemma.
"Dream" assassinated the naughty criminal-type Etienne "Ich will sterben, Je veux mourir, Quiero morir" Chatenay:
Abley assisted by the chief of police and a fellow member of the Sandman Mafia, I journeyed to Etienne's College, and shot him five times in the head at almost point-blank range. He was most unamused, but I giggled. tee-hee!
Delerium concurs:
Ahhhhh, the play of the winter sunlight on the buildings of Cambridge.....ahhhhh, the leaping shadows of the winter nights......those who stride out may not return..........and poor ichy-wichy fell victim, lost his head, and tumbled into a disturbing *Dream*....