"The Shadow" killed Peter "Dr X" Hinstridge thusly:
Strange, grotesque thoughts of violent death and agonising mutilation filled my troubled mind as I made the long, silent walk to Fitzwilliam. In all the uncertainty and doubt, one terrible truth shone through: Hinstridge must die, or I must die in the attempt. Death was near, but which of us would He claim? The world indeed seemed a cold and unwelcoming place in the early, lonely hours of that dark Thursday morning (for it was not even 9am).
I had hoped to catch my victim as he left for lectures, but on arrival I found the curtains drawn and the lights off. I felt momentary relief. Were we both to be spared the awful contest from which only one could emerge alive? But as I skulked in the corridor, my target's neighbour wandered from his room. Suddenly thrown, I darted into the kitchen, painfully aware of how suspicious I must look.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Um, er, do you know if Pete's up yet?" I stammered, clutching my knife close, ready to draw at any moment.
"Pete! Visitor!" he cried, banging on the closed door, before casually and unconcernedly wandering back into his own room. I could not believe my luck.
Muffled, sleepy grunts came from within. "Who is it?" a voice asked innocently. I waited. Slowly, a slither of darkness appeared as the door peeped open. Quick as a flash, I thrust my arm through the gap. Realising what was happening, he tried to slam the door shut as he hurled himself back into the room, but it was too late. I had blasted him point blank with my gun, and he slumped feebly back onto the bed from which he had risen. His life was slipping away, with the blood that slowly soaked the mattress.
Sun broke through the clouds as I hurried from the scene undetected, sparing only a passing thought for an unfortunate Fitzwilliam bedder who would have an unusual amount of cleaning that morning. As for Hinstridge, I felt no pity, no remorse, only an uplifting sense of triumph. I had made my first kill, and liked what I had found. Fellow assassins, be warned, many more will follow.
The ever faithful "Mrs. Faithful" sent to "Trezzer" a Valentine card; clearly touched by the gesture, the recipient reports:
Violets are blue
Roses are red
Your valentine card
Did not leave me dead
For safe in Addenbrookes
I do dwell
Please can you not
Kill me till I am well!
"Dream" couldn't resist the chance to make "The Unusual Suspect" feel warm, wanted, and dead — but "The Unusual Suspect" was simply too suspicious:
Low self esteem and a suspicious mind are apparently what it takes to stay alive in this game...
A rather touching sentiment arrived in my pigeon hole this morning, a nice bright red envelope with my name lovingly scrawled on the front. A Valentine? For me? Oh, you shouldn't have! Conflicting emotions fought through my mind - could someone really want to end my lonliness? Apparently so. Literally as it turned out.
In my fragile emotional state this may well have worked, had it not been for the fact that today is, unfortunately, the 15th - not a date particularly associated wit the giving of loving gifts. The dissected halves of the letterbomb are now pinned to my noticeboard.
Remember what they say though, Dream, too much love WILL kill you...
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 has dealt with the last of that rare breed, the wanted criminal. Today's lucky victim was Stephen "Pamela" Cooper:
The last lawbreaker was found to be out this afternoon, but his door was unlocked. Without any traffic to misdirect or parking tickets to hand out, waiting proved to be considerably taxing for this keeper of the peace. Thus all the ingredients of a bomb were found to be in the fiend's room. Perhaps if he had shown more initiative and looked in his cupboards he might have avoided the incompetents list, but no, he had to go and leave his ass parked on double yellow lines. So the bomb is primed, and set to blow at 8:20 this evening, a time carefully calculated to be sufficiently after dinner, and before his service this evening. If he proves to be absent when it explodes, I'm sure the long arm of the law will stretch to Great St Mary's tonight.
Dilemma's calculations were spot on, for at 8:19, Pamela received his last telephone call:
I thought I'd give our friend Pamela a phone call this evening. I invited him to a duel, but he politely declined, intimating that he might want to go for the Dr Kimble award. I was about to say goodbye when an alarm sounded, followed by a deafening explosion. My bomb had worked a treat so that this fugitive's run has come to an end.
The following cryptic message, painstakingly constructed from newspaper cuttings, was received today:
"The sword of Damocles....."
"Dream" has kindly provided this handy guide to avoiding these, the infrequent killers of the incautious:
"The Unusual Suspect tried to kill "The Shadow" today:
Tried to kill The Shadow today around 4 o'clock. Unfortunatley he countered with the cunning "Not Being In" defence to which I had no reply. Waited in ambush in his kitchen for a bit, but the sight of all that food made me hungry and I left to get a hot-dog.
Ah well, maybe tomorrow...
Päivi "Snowman" Pasi murdered an innocent and is now wanted:
After three weeks in the game, I have finally managed to kill someone. Hurrah to that, except that the victim was not one of my legal targets and - unfortunately - not even a player. So he might, I guess, be considered (dare I breath it) an innocent victim.
At about 13.20 today there was a knock on my door. Through the peephole I saw a somewhat dodgy male dressed all in black, and as it was, he also had his hands hidden in his bulging pockets.
Let me tell you, he had the word "assassin" branded on his forehead.
So I grabbed a gun and opened the door just a bit, at which point this guy started taking his hands out of his pockets. So I promptly executed him...
...only to find out that he was, in fact, a boyfriend of my neighbour's. He wanted to borrow a frying pan for making pancakes.
Päivi "Snowman" Pasi snuffed it whilst trying to murder Acting-Chief "Incorruptible". In the short-lived criminal's own words:
It was not a succesfull evening for the brand new wanted criminal of Cambridge. I made a kamikaze attack to the room of "Chief Incorruptible" only to be killed because the damn cap gun failed to fire. (I just KNEW I should have gone for the knife). I spent a few moments arguing about who was dead and who wasn't, but the truth is hard to evade if you are lying lifeless on the floor.
After my untimely death I went to haunt Harvey Court, where I was greeted by a few friends who wanted to know if I was angry because they had borrowed my cap gun for a masked formal hall and used up all the caps before bringing it back.
I'm too drunk to relate the gory events which followed. Being dead is so much fun, you know.
PS: It's not very nice, actually. Being a policewoman could probably cheer me up, don't you think?
The arresting officer had this to say:
The corpse of Paivi Pasi has been fed to the wasps of Old Hall attics, after her cap gun failed to operate in her attempt on the Lady Paramount of Her Majesty's Bright Stripy Fluorescent Orange-White Extra-Large Traffic Cones.
Now, the technicalities :
She was shot thrice with a rbg for bearing weapons. Her ghost later confessed to waisting an innocent in her staircase.
Her cap gun failed to work when she tried to shoot me.
Snowman is now a policewoman. Acting-Chief "Incorruptible" has been awarded the title Lady Paramount of Her Majesty's Bright Stripy Fluorescent Orange-White Extra-Large Traffic Cones.
Ten fresh new incompetents are now on the wanted list... have fun, people. Incompetents need both a sucessful kill of a player, and another good attempt, to become competent again. Chris Maher has been drafted into the police force in order to help combat the criminal element.
Someone tried to kill Rhombo, but he was on his guard:
some chappie knocked on my door, interrupting a nice autechre listening session, the scallywag..
he pretended to be interested in some poetry on my door..and asked if i had some more and what my name was
didn't rise to the bait, let him pretend to knock on a different door and then act very dodgily, clutching his suspicious shoulder bag...
i left my premises after a few minutes...he was still skulking around at the bottom of the stairs. our eyes met for a glancing moment. i know him, he knows me. tried to locate him in the basements, knife in hand - found his bag, complete with bomb inside - but no sign of the devil himself.
i live to fight another day.
PC Jehova's Witness was murdered by "Archangel" in an attempt to apprehend wanted criminals "Captain Caveman" and "The Mole". The ex-policeperson provided the following report:
This morning, having been woken by a phone call at an unreasonable hour, I headed to try an remove some of the stain on our fair city. Naturally, the place to start was the place where the stench of corruption and depravity was at its worst: John's. Departing my hovel at 11:00 with the bell calling for worship tolling mournfully in the background, I approached the foul college itself...
Observing that the two who were wanted resided within spitting distance of each other, I went heavily armed, but with a bare modicum of discression (Noone gave me funny looks on route...)
Arriving at the targets' abodes and having confirmed they had remembered to lock their doors after the previous night's drinking (They had put up a convenient sign informing me of their debauchery), I decided to start be kncking on the door of The Mole, who awakened, and claimed he couldn't find his dressing gown.
After around 45 seconds of this, Captain Caveman appeared, unarmed, attempting to be helpful. I snapped off a shot, but as my heavier weaponary was still concealed, got only one, which missed. He dived back into his room fast, and locked it.
At this point phones started ringing, and I dived back into cover. A standoff enschewed, which was punctuated by a confused looking person emerging, for his shower, from another door, he asked curiously why I was standing there with a gun in each hand, and then - before I could become properly suspicious about his sheer lack of knowledge - pulled a cap gun from beneath his towel and shot me in the stomach.
Alas I am dead once more. Killed by an Archangel in disguise!
The intended victim, Captain Caveman, offers the following tale:
Whilst enjoying the lovely delights of sunday morning tv, I was disturbed
by noises outside my room. Assuming it was people after my friend The
Mole - who had been up till the wee hours drinking - I popped my head
round the door to tell them he was probably asleep. The person suddenly
opened fire on my doorway - luckily he only got one missed shot off so I
ducked back inside. About a minute later (after close observation of the
suspect - PC Jehova's Witness) I heard a knock on my door - Archangel had
managed to kill the fiend, allowing my incompetent streak to continue.
The ärkeängel concerned had this to say:
I heard some noise outside ny room as i was about to go to the shower. My neighbours up at this time of the day on Sunday?
I went to the shower equipped with a USP and saw this assassin outside my neighbours's door, by the name of Jehova's Witness, wielding an TMP on one hand and a FN Five-Seven on the other.
I asked him on what he was doing and how long he expects to wait. On him finished replying, i whipped out my USP and shot him at point-blank range.
Enjoy your Sunday.
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 brought the non-existent Pembroke mafia closer to extinction by executing Cyrus:
Pembroke is one assassin shorter following the death of Cyrus this morning. He had left his room unlocked whilst taking a shower, but a wash wasn't enough to remove the dirt on him. Waiting patiently in his room I felt like Butch in Pulp Fiction. The room was an impressive arsenal of weaponry, and I was torn between the fencing sword and the chainsaw. I decided to stick with my trusty six shooter, and as he returned (can you guess what I did next?) I shot him in the back. The shower may have woken him up, but the gun had left him in an eternal slumber.
Simon Ford has been further promoted to the rank of Offical Donut-Boy and assistant Tea-Lady and Chief of Police.
SvenskMoose tried to kill The Mole, but was shot himself by other inhabitants of the staircase. The Moose begins this tale:
This morning, I, SvenskMoose, went on my last killing spree. A quick trip across to R staricase left another bullet hole in the (already dead) body of Philip J Wood esq.
Failure dogging my every step I trotted forlornly to Cripp's Court (John's) to finish off Phil Bennet. I knocked (probably a bad plan) and when asked who it was I said I had come to replace the fire alarm, but he clearly did not believe me as the door opened a crack and a bit of gun appeared.
I moved quickly sideways and the gun went off. I must maintain that the gun was a good half inch of corner-of-door between me and the gun at that point so the first shot definitely did not kill me. I then thrust my gun round door and started shooting. The other gun did the same to me. My first shot and the other gun's second shot were indistinguishable in timing so we both kept shooting until our clips were empty.
Just to add to the excitement of the occasion, the door of another room opened and a faint clicking sound ensued as the occupant came out and started shooting. When all the fun was over, rather like the USA in a World War, the inhabitant of yet another different room came out brandishing his weapon only to find out that he was too late.
The following report was received from "The Mole":
A busy day today - its good to be wanted.
Woken too early with a massive hangover. I was saved by my untidiness - I actually couldn't find my dressing gown and then, when my brain had woken, was very glad about it. The threat was luckily despatched by Archangel, leaving me to nurse my aching head. For about an hour.
More knocking. There was no way it could be my friends - they know I would not be up on Sunday morning. Sure enough, a cry of "Porters, your fire alarm is playing up" came to my ears. Opening the door, I fired my trusty revolver. Die, SvenskMoose.
Archangel decided to make sure of things:
Svenskmoose came over to The Mole's room, pretending to be a porter checking the fire alarm. The Mole had a spyhole, so clearly The Mole knew that the alleged porter was a fake.
The Mole opened his door and thrusted his gun outside his room, shooting one or a few shots (i can't be sure) in the process. Whether these shots (from a cap gun) actually hit the target was unclear to me.
At this point i was under the assumption that Svenskmoose had been killed, but they kept exchanging shots for which i was still in my room. I rushed out of my room and shot Svenskmoose a few times at the back, killing him off instantly if he was still alive.
PC "Ribena" mangled the already mutilated corpse of "The SvenskMoose":
Just popped past Pembroke and shot Svenskmoose, but he was already dead. Ah well, his head will make a fine decoration on my wall!
Traffic Policeman "Bud White" executed another incompetent, Ross "The Onion Budgie" Brockman:
This afternoon under the watchful gaze of Lord Dilemma I proceded to test the emma pd`s new munitions. Four shots were delivered to the head and body of The Onion Budgie, ending his miserable incompetent life. The test proved satisfactory Red Squad beware.....
Traffic Policeman "Bud White" has been promoted to "Speed Camera Repairman".
The Police Force attempted a coordinated assault on the incompetent criminals of E-staircase, John's, but the only immediate death was that of the unfortunate visitor Sally "Trezzer" Clough. The squad consisted of PC's "Dilemma", "Incorruptible", "Bud White", and Speed Camera Repairman "Ribena", who lodged this report:
Today, the police force decided that the incompetence of St Johns could not be allowed to continue. So swapping our speed guns for just plain old guns we set off. We cautiously arrived at the staircase, and donned gas masks, knowing how the foul minds of these criminals worked. Just as we had predicted, they tried to gas us, but we were prepared. They didn't believe we were wearing them, so we invited them to step outside to have a look. They declined our kind offer.
This from "Archangel":
I heard some noises outside my room, and looked through the peephole to investigate. There were 2 people, either planting a bomb or putting contact poison on my doorknob.
I rushed to get my poison-gas cannister (as they weren't wearing any gas masks), and sprayed at them through a gap in the door. They fled immediately, to the other side of the corridor.
It was the Pembroke mafia. They claimed to be wearing gas masks but i was sure that they weren't.
I ignored them until they disappeared.
The Pembroke mafia came around again to me door, and i fired a few shot through the gap of my door. One of them tried to wrestle the gun away from me, but i kept firing.
Well, truth to tell, this so-called "Pembroke Mafia" wasn't. The "The Mole" elaborates:
And still they come (a fair bit later)! A raid by an unnamed party, who shouted "Pembroke mafia". This was a cunning ploy to get us to think that this highly-trained police squad was a group of inferior Pembrokian assassins. After lethal gas was released into the corridor, a standoff ensued for about an hour, confining me to my pitifully-unarmed room with an unknown number of assailants perched in the corridor. Hmm....
PS Incompetent can just mean lazy
The Lady Paramount of Her Majesty's Bright Stripy Fluorescent Orange-White Extra-Large Traffic Cones, Claire Bordenave, continues the tale:
Mohammed was quite happy to fight us for 20 minutes with gas and cap guns, and Sam Birch with water pistols for the duration of our stay. Phil Bennett saw we were 4 and told his friends so.
Sally Clough turned up and attacked our rear guard (Paul Hickford) who mowed her down with a brand new CPS-1200 for bearing weapons and trying to charge a police officer.
Trying to charge down a bloke with a supersoaker wielding her cap gun !!!
Speed Camera Repairman "Ribena" narrates his moment of glory:
A tense stand-off ensued, with officers sealing all exits. One of the foul villains tried to climb out of window, but he decided against it. Possibly the several CPS's outside put him off the idea. The villains and the cops continued to exchange shots, but to no avail. A brave officer was covering the bottom of the staircase, to ensure that any reinforcements they called would be unable to help. It was this heroic figure who got the first kill of the afternoon....
As he (ok, me. the third person ego boost is over now) waited he saw a familiar figure from a past life arrive. Maybe Sally "Trezzer" Clough was here to try and enforce justice? Well, she didn't. I said hello, and pointed my cps 1500 at her just in case she tried anything. She said Hi, and tried to draw a cap gun, despite being out of range. Unfortunately for her, it takes significantly less time to pull a trigger than it does to get a gun out of your pocket and fire it. So suddenly her chest decided it would go and have a close look at the wall behind her. As this severely punctured Sally fell to the ground, I had avenged my own death! Satisfaction indeed.
The stand off continued upstairs while all this went on... This report came from "Captain Caveman":
So, the incompetent criminals survived — this time — for Speed Camera Repairman "Ribena" and friends couldn't stay all day:
In the end there were no other casualties. And we didn't came in a car, nor mention any car although we did insinuate we were from Pembroke and here to avenge SvenskMoose! And that we had police support.
But the afternoon wasn't a complete loss. My new gun was christened. From this day forward, it shall be called...... Sally!!!!
For his sterling works, Speed Camera Repairman Ribena has been "promoted" to Roadkill.
This raid claimed more casualties, though: An innocent porter who came to investigate fell victim to the residual noxious fumes. Muhammad Esa, the "Archangel", was unable to live with himself after this, and felt honour-bound to fall upon his sword.
PC Actaeon the (almost) Invincible tried to terminate the incompetent Jamie "Lloyd" Douglass:
This morning at 11.45 I proceeded to Sidney Sussex college in an attempt to eliminate some of the criminal scum from this fair city. I managed to gain access to the T staircase without need to know the combination by cunningly following someone in who had just returned from Sainsbury's.
On reaching Lloyd's corridor, someone emerged from an adjacent room. They said 'Are you going to kill Jamie?', I replied 'Yes' - clearly I was easily recognisable as a police officer despite the fact I went in civilian clothing.... who knows? Perhaps it was a subtle feature of my gait or the honest expression on my face which gave it away.
I knocked on the msicreant's door from a most oblique angle in an attempt to avoid being seen through the peep-hole. There was no response, despite repeated and protracted knocking.
As I was leaving, I was informed rather unhelpfully by his next door neighbour that 'He's probably out or in bed'.
Next time he won't be so lucky...... you can only evade justice for so long.
Number 24 on the list of the The Top 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord is:
I will maintain a realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. Even though this takes some of the fun out of the job, at least I will never utter the line: "No, this cannot be. I AM INVINCIBLE!!!" (After that death is usually instantaneous.)
Police officers such as PC Actaeon the (almost) Invincible might do well to remember this, as Lloyd clearly has:
Ho-hum. I always take a little refreshment at about half past one, it
seems, after all, much more civilised than tripping to hall, and gorging
on the slops they find so exciting to provide students with (a social
experiment? along the lines of "Lets see where they draw the line...") and
so can often be found around my room at that time. Oops, maybe I shouldnt
tell that to the world. (Mind you a really paranoid observer might
consider that any information I provide to you all might be a little on
the dubious side...) Anyway, I was leaving my domicile, and chatting of
cabbages and kings to my good - and innocent - friend, when some chap
pooped out of nowhere and poured bullets into poor Tom. Shocking
behaviour. In any case, dear old Suzie Snub-nose took away his life for a
game of hide and seek. You really will have to do better. 2 out of
ten. See Me.
love and kisses.
PS: Incompetent? glass houses and stones my dearests...
And from the invincibleish one:
Having failed to find Lloyd during my expedition yesterday, I took it upon myself to resume the search.
At 14.00 I entered into T staircase of Sydney Sussex, employing a similarly cunning method to the one I described in my report yesterday.
On reaching the correct corridor, I noticed that the door at the end opening into Lloyd's room was open. As I stepped into the door way and let rip with the revolver, I reeled backwards, having been shot in the stomach multiple times - Lloyd had been standing there, gun in hand. Does he carry it with him all the time for heaven's sake?
Horror of horrors! Not only was my mangled corpse now lying on the corridor floor but I had killed an innocent victim - the next door neighbour who had been so unhelpful before would never get the chance to be unhelpful again...
Reminder: Those who have not recently made a direct attempt on a valid target have until 23:59:59 tomorrow (Thursday) to do so. There are but two fates for those who have been or are unable to manage this: Those who were not previously wanted for incompetence will be made so (this currently applies to too many players - go and kill!). Those who are already wanted for incompetence will be removed from the game (this currently applies to 3 players).
Jamie "Lloyd" Douglass attempted to assassinate "Echo"
This really is not on. I have just been over to a nearby college to indulge in a spot of light death, and the target, Echo, isnt damn well there. Please can you stay in your room more, my dear. I'm trying to bloody kill you...
love and kisses,
"The Ferret's Revenge" did his best to disturb the hedgerow home of Phil "The Mole" Bennet and Sam "Captain Caveman" Birch. The latter narrates today's story:
Whilst enjoying a lovely pancake-making session on Tuesday night (yes, I'm aware pancake day's not till next Tuesday), The Mole, myself and another assassin were happily making pancakes with several friends when someone came into our kitchen, claiming to have seen large numbers of assassins outside. When we ventured out, however, nothing was present except for several hundred spent round of ammunition. Quite what they were shooting at is anyone's guess..... maybe they were put off by the a) burning caramel smell or b) the vodka--bananas (yummy!!)
Hmmm, yet another attempt - At around 4:30 on wednesday someone came
knocking at my door:
Me: "Who is it?"
Blatant Assassin: "Jim!"
Me: "Who's that?"
Blatant Assassin: "A friend"
Yeah. Whatever. Anyone, as I was approaching the door to kill the fool, The Mole shouted that the guy outside my door was an assassin. He promptly scarpered, leaving me unable to take any offensive action. Bugger.
About half an hour later, I heard a rattling at my door handle. Telling my friend (who had come over for a chat and a biscuit) to wait there, I moved to the door, but heard the sound of scampering footsteps as the assassin fled. I can only presume that it was this assassin who was responsible for the large bomb which was attached to my door handle - luckily for me, my friend left the room before I did (surprisingly enough) and so got a large explosion in the face, and I escaped death again. Unfortunately, this means that The Ferret's Revenge has killed an innocent, and is now wanted (not only for incompetence). He won't live long.......
Perhaps the Ferret should find out how to kill moles, Duncton Wood style?
Ok the Ferret has two more attempts to boast about. I decided it was time for action, and that the fellow incompitents of the John's mafia should be targets. I therefore did a recce, using the pimative tactic of knocking on the mole's door. I was immediately greeted by the jumping captain caveman from room three. Ever alert to such underhand protectionist tactics, i ran off, something I have been getting very used to recently. I then returned half an hour later with a substantial bomb similar to the one Mav (God rest his soul) and I used on Morton, and an accomplice. I heard aforementioned assassins talking about shooting me in the room, and I'm pretty confident there is no way they can escape from the room without detonating the bomb.
"Delirium" proved that "Dangerous Jim" Milner wasn't all that dangerous after all:
Poor Jim, poor lazy jim, who spent so long in a foreign den of hashish and illusion ¹ that he couldn't draw strength to kill.....and we tried, we tried, my precious, to help him, but to no avail....ahh, the dark side of laziness.....so I visited my poor jim and sent him to a land where he may recline in illusions for ever.....
¹ Well, Hitch-hiking to Amsterdam.
The ghost of Jim notes that although his live incarnation was very idle, he did manage to shoot Terry Lines, who had been responsible for his friend Delirium's past near-death experience, of which Jim was entirely innocent.
Terry Lines? Who precisely is Terry Lines?
"Rhombo" made sure that "Dangerous Jim" Milner was well and truely dead:
LAST NITE: myself and my pretty accomplice made the trek to harvey court to slaughter my target james milner.
confronted with the seemingly impenetrable clockwork-orange-esque building, it was left to the trusty Porters to sort us out....'all the way from Jesus ?' said he, unlocking the secret stairway direct to our man...
so foolish. so friendly. even got passing nods from others once inside the complex. the boy wasn't in, so a threatening note was left on his door as a warning...
THIS MORNING: between lectures i tread the same path of last nite. some suitably located friends managed to let me into the complex this time. ear-to-the-door, my target had obviously not yet risen (only subsequently do i find out he is a philosophy student) but was chatting away on his phone. how to slay my victim in these early hours ? the sudden rustle of binliners gave me an impulse. i love bedders and im sure they love me. she was only to willing to pop upstairs and open my target's door for me...upon which i casually stroll in, see Milner cowering behind his duvet, ask if i may kill him, and slash his neck with my knife after being given the nod. 'i was killed yesterday anyway' he says. the Caius bastard. thoroughly nice and welcoming for one obviously wanting to go back to sleep, we had a brief but pleasant chat before i slinked off back to my day-job.
Mrs Faithful mercifully disposed of Gemma "Dream" Mitchell. The assassin reports:
Today straight after lectures, during which my mind had repeatedly drifted off to what I would be doing afterwards, I proceeded to Caius and eventually made my way into K staircase after having unprofessionally wandered round the whole court once (why does it (i.e. the staircase) need to be hidden in that corner?). The in/out board next to the entrance showed my target to be in, and indeed I heard voices in her room when I got there. I calmly waited in the deserted corridor, and eventually her door opened. Someone who was definitely older than what one would expect a student to be left, and I knew my time had come. I slowly walked to her room, just as she appeared from it. A short, unsuspecting glance at me, she tried to get past me - a quick movement, one shot, and she collapsed, a scared expression still on her face. Content with my professional work, I left the scene of crime and entered the buzzing, anonymous life on the streets outside again in order to have lunch.
Getting up late has a price, as Gemma has now discovered:
As I staggered, ill and suffering from my room, in my dressing gown, Mrs Faithful put me out of my misery with a clean gunshot to the heart. It was a mercy-killing, really. Mrs. Faithful was very sweet, and even apologised for killing an ill assassin :)
...off to the police force I go, watch out criminials!
"Macavity" executed Sam "Captain Caveman" Birch and Phil "The Mole" Bennett.
Relaxing in my room after a pleasant lunch today, I was suddenly jolted into action by a phone call of great urgency. Two of my most senior spies, Mr Damian S G-C T Valdez (Chief Advisor on Surveillance) and Mr Colin Magee (Head of Intelligence), had tracked one of my targets, Phil Bennett, to Wetherspoons. There he was dining with fellow villain Sam Birch. It appeared that these two wanted criminals had finally ventured from the safety of their fortress on John's E Staircase, under the misapprehension that they could sneak a quiet lunch undetected in a dark corner of a town pub. It was a fatal mistake. Assassins of Cambridge beware, for Macavity's spy-network reaches to every corner of this troubled city, from north to south, from Fitz to Homerton (though obviously not as far as Girton), and no one is safe.
To Wetherspoons then I came, to find the two unfortunates tucking into a hearty lunch, blissfully unaware that my informants were sitting only a couple of tables away. I joined my friends first to survey the scene, debating whether to use the pistol or the knife. My instinct was for the knife, for there are few pleasures to match that of stabbing someone in the back, and watching the blood spurt out. However, after considering that I would have to kill Bennett and Birch practically simultaneously (for one would surely leap to the defence of the other), I settled on the gun.
The kill itself was ludicrously easy. Strolling by their table as they buried themselves in their food, I suddenly whipped out the gun and dispatched them with two clean shots. I am still smiling at the looks of helpless surprise which momentarily flashed across their faces before they slumped, lifeless, into their plates of chips. Before I returned to join my friends for a quiet drink, a quick search of Bennett's body revealed that he had been carrying no less than three guns. I am sure all assassins will rejoice at the news that these two villainous Johnians are no longer with us.
The Mole's report follows:
While ejoying a mid-chemistry practical lunch at the exclusive Wetherspoons public house with my compatriot Captain Caveman, we were brutally gunned down in full view of the shocked patrons.
Macavity (for that was his moniker) had been notified of our presence by his ever-ready team of spies, had raced to the scene, and approached our table. With a single swift movement, he drew his gun and viciously shot us both in the head. We said ouch. He shot us again. We died.
In a civilised chat, he informed us of the fortunate series of events leading to the kill, and of his previous fear of the E-staircase of death. Rest assured, we will return in May Week game!
Captain Caveman's last living thoughts were later discovered:
Chemistry practicals can be ever so boring, so The Mole and I decided to spice things up with a pint at Wethers over lunch break. Unfortunately, the evil villain Macavity had spies positioned at a table not far from us, and they hastily rang him. Blissfully unaware of our fate, we started on the burgers we'd ordered when Macavity strolled up and emptied his gun into both of us at point-blank range. The moral of the story is - never go out on the piss during an assessed practical, things can only end badly.
The Police Force has recruited two new members: PC Mole and PC Caveman.
The earthquake that is "Lina Inverse" did for Helen "The Horrible Rock Monster" Debenham. Lina reports thusly:
Having been ordered to do so, I went out again to kill. I spent the week constructing a nifty little device consisting of a cap gun in a parcel, and then planning ways to get my target to open the door. In the end, it was so different from anything I could have thought.
Steeling myself to the job (at least if I get killed I can stop being paranoid...), I climbed the stairs of the huge and forbidding New building in Pembroke College in search of Helen Debenham. I reached the door and knocked, heart-in-mouth.
"Come in", a voice replied. Ooh...opportunity. I put on my best innocent-little-first-year face and went in. There was a bloke at one end of the room and a girl opposite him. I homed in on her, explaining as I neared her that I had a parcel for her.
"Ooh!" she sounded pleased. I stopped close to her and pulled the string and my happy little cap gun went off pretty loudly. She died with a surprised look on her face and her last words were along the lines of 'at least I don't have to worry about tonight'. I stopped for a chat with the guy, one SvenskMoose, which started off being nice and culminated in a little argument with a garrotte and a knife, both made out of paper.
Apart from that, I left Pembroke full of glee. I, Lina Inverse, have triumphed again!
The Horrible Rock Monster has this to say:
Yesterday Afternoon, I was quietly having a cup of tea in my room, and expecting one of my friends to join me, so when there was a knock at my door, I idly called "come in" However when the door opened it was none other than an assassin. At this point despite the fact I realised who she was, she kept to her story she had rehearsed in advance, and said "I have a parcel for you" she walked over to me carrying a padded envelope which contained a cap gun, and a string to pull which fired it from inside the envelope. When she was about a metre from me she pulled the string, and hence shot me through this supposed parcel. She left and I continued drinking tea and munching biscuits feeling a lot less perturbed about the situation than I thought I would.
"The Unusual Suspect" came not at all close to killing "Rhombo":
After not finding my first target at home, I moved on to try and cleanse the word of the poet Rhombo. Stalking up his Jesus staircase I heard voices coming from his neighbour's room. Still, I listened at his door to make sure there were no signs of life. Hearing none, I rigged a bomb to his door in full view of his neighbour's peep hole and retreated down stairs. Still nothing happened, so I returned to the door, knocked loudly and then in an obvious way ran loudly to the floor below. Finally he took the bait, and emerged from his neighbour's door.
But wait, there were two of them! Both became engrossed in the mechanism of my explosive and I casually ascended the stairs again. Catching sight of me, a look of horror passed over both thier faces.
"Is this a stink bomb?" one asks innocently, reaching into his coat. I
retreat out of cap-gun range, my hand clasping the grip of my own pellet gun.
"Why don't you open the door and find out?" I reply.
Since I still don't know who my target is, I decided to go for the direct approach.
"Are you Rhombo?"
"Yes" he says. Brilliant! Two shots blow out his chest and take the top of his head clean off.
"Actually no, I'm Paul, thats Rhombo" the corpse adds as I direct my gaze towards the figure slinking back behind the door. D'oh.
Seeing as I have a date to keep with my lady friend, I can waste no more time around people who abuse the lives of innocents and take my leave. And my bomb, which they had failed to disarm.
Even this was not as it seemed, according to Rhombo:
it was with some surprise that i read my alleged close encounter with 'the unusual suspect'
i have to say i know of no such event
my neighbours and friends were obviously up to the task of confusing the poor boy and defending my life....
...to the extent they were willing to die for me. Paul was a good and dear friend. He shall be missed. His Economy Bread and American Style Cookies will be donated to the needy as a tribute.
"Pilchard" went to visit "The Ferret", but nothing came of it:
Disgusted that my intended target The Horrible Rock Monster had been killed already, I attempted the seemingly impossible; a Pilchard taking on a Ferret. Swimming merrily along the clean waters of the Cam I came upon his den and managed to enter thanks to a kindly water vole. Alas, the vermin was out, and I'll warrant he was out drinking at some local hostelry. As I swam back to my happy home I espied the ghost of Harland Quinn (we pilchards have a sixth sense) who seemed content as a bleach blond. Be warned Ferret, wherever there is water there's a Pilchard!
"Echo" had a go at "Supernova":
late this evening (though well before midnight, I hasten to add) echo sped towards her target on spokes of silver. upon reaching his abode she heard loudish music from what she guessed was his room, perfect to cover the sound of poison gas hissing from her glistening canister. and so the deed was done, the poison squirted through his letterbox, plus a nice little note explaining the deadliness of that pleasant aroma lingering in his hallway... it was contact-poisoned of course. she then knocked tentatively upon his door, hoping to lure him into the hallway, and ran off to write her report.
Alas, circumstances defeated "Echo" in her attempt; "Supernova" elaborates:
There I was, minding my own business at 11:45 pm, catching up on some work, when I hear noises outside my door. This is then followed by the distinctive sound of poison gas being released, as I clutch my mask to my face. However, what my would-be murderer fails to realise is that I have a hallway between the door and my room, so while the paint on the walls of my hallway is now no doubt melting from the toxic fumes, I can quite happily sit in my room with my mask to my face breathing pure, clean air. Whether my bedder will still be alive tomorrow morning is another matter of course...
Note: "Echo" was briefly made wanted for incompetence, for although this attempt was made before midnight, it was not reported for quite a while afterwards. The Umpires expect to be notified of attempts before the deadline, and point out that the opportunity to be murdered by the highly trained and efficient police force, however briefly, is something of a disincentive to do otherwise.
This day brings but one new incompetent: Jamie "Supernova" Richards is now wanted. The new game period spans Friday 23rd February 00:00 to Tuesday 27th February 23:59:59. All players must make a good attempt or kill during this time - poisoned letters aren't good enough to count.
The remains of Dan "Edmund Flesh" Lambert, previously wanted for incompetence, were found scattered around his room this morning. Police are treating the death as suspicious. Duty Coroner Clegor Gregane issued this statement:
This case has presented a multitude of barriers to the application of forensic science and investigative biology, and my preliminary findings are very tentative indeed. Nethertheless, from the orientation and geometry of bloodstains, the nature of the damage to furniture, the uniform distibution of former body parts, and of course, the convenient closed circuit televisual footage, I am able to hypothesise that the notorious assassin J Doe was magically transported into the middle of the victim's room by a mysterious time portal, out of which he lept, swinging a Topologist's sine curve, to bloodily disconnect and dismember the victim's essential singularities in an ungentlemanly fashion, before returning to his own time. The heavens were at that time auspiciously aligned in such a way that even the smallest ritual gathering of associates of J Doe Consulting Ltd. could conceivably have had this very summoning effect. Needless to say, we shall continue to investigate the matter.
Offical Donut-Boy and assistant Tea-Lady and Chief of Police "Dilemma" killed John "The Ferret's Revenge" Miller:
Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you make your own luck. The latter was the case today when my persistence paid off. In an attempt to extinguish the dangerous Magdalene Mafia I headed to Thompson's Lane and the residence of John "The Ferret's Revenge" Miller. I passed his window once, the curtains were drawn. Minutes later I passed it a second time and they were open. Someone was certainly about. I didn't want to peer in the window for fear of detection, and when a male figure emerged from the main doorway onto the street, I followed. I wasn't one hundred percent certain that this was my man, but I tailed him nonetheless, all the way to his department. "Miller" I called. He responded by half turning towards me. I shot, but my aim was off and it took off only the little finger on his right hand. Blood spurted comically from the stump that remained. A second bullet proved lethal. His body lay crumpled in a pool of blood. Reaching into his pocket I retrieved his wallet. Credit card details confirmed that he was John Miller and that with his death, the Magdalene Mafia was no more.
Once more, Dilemma has been rewarded for his efforts: he is now Superintendent and Deputy-Chief Tea-Lady of Donut Division.
Speed Camera Repairman 'Editor' killed some poor RAG assassin from Queens.
I stabbed someone outside lectures today for openly bearing weapons, but it turned out that he was playing in the Queens' RAG game or something. What a pity.
Show some professional pride and don't slaugther too many amateurs, please...
Lloyd tried to bomb the door of the The Unusal Suspect's room, but ended up booby-trapping the door of the corridor.
Oops-a-daisy! I went over to Emma today. That was fun. Lovely architecture surrounding the green sward, which I spent a pleasant five or so minutes admiring whilst enjoying my little smoke. Very interesting, and reminds me a little of Magdalen, Oxford, though of course, with slightly more ducks, and fewer deer. Which is handy actually, because there isnt room for deer. They'd shit on the lawn, and drown in the pond. But I digress. I went up to the room wherein lay my target, The Unusual Suspect. A nervous looking man jumped past me on the stairs, and so I enquired of his name. He said he was not The Unusual Suspect, but I feel that a little leniency in these matter is required, after all, I bloody wouldnt tell anyone asking for me. I'd call myself Clive, or Lucien, perhaps....I've always liked the name Lucien... Sor-ry, rambling on. ANYWAY I left a horrible shrapnel bomb on his door. Then I went to play Laserquest. With The Unusual Suspect. Who is someone else. Oh bum.
Just like to report that following the righteous ass kicking of all who would oppose us at Laserquest I returned to find an exploded party popper taped to the door of my corridor, its contents sprayed over the landing. Dilemma and Pilchard heard it go off probably around 4ish. Obviously the dumb assassin didn't even check to see that there was an entire corridor on the other side of the door - me plus 3 innocents (now presumably two) - and just assumed it was a set (there are two names above the door) They must also have failed to check that the Q and R landings are actually linked as they did not bomb the OTHER exit to my corridor. I can only assume it was a particularly ill conceived attempt by an incompetent who did not even do their homework, who just thought that a quick run up a few stairs and a cowardly indiscriminate attempt would count as their quota for this period. I have yet to find the body of the dead innocent, but most of my neighbours are out at the moment. I'll keep you informed. I look forward to finding out who they are...
Here you are then: It was Jamie 'Lloyd' Douglass formerly only wanted for incompetence, now also for the murder of an innocent.
No player or police officer has died for 48 hours. Only some collateral damage. What's going on? Does anyone want to win this game?
Finally something happens, but that's courtesy of the police force (not of the players). Speed Camera Repairman 'Editor' assissted by several other members of the police apprehended Dan 'The Beautiful Dead Man' Seymour
Detective work and diligency pays off.
The late Dan Seymour was junior treaurer in the CU Wargaming society, so I
figured that it would be a good idea to check out their meeting today at 1
pm. I met up with Ribena at 12.45 checked the people gathering for the
meeting. Dan was noit there. The others told us that he might turn up at 2
or 3. I went to pick up some books for the wait, and when I came back
At 3 pm Ribena came back, but Dan still hadn't showed up. The others told us that he might come around 4ish.
At 3.30 the CoP showed up, but Dan didn't.
At 4 pm Ribena and Incorruptible left, but Dan still didn't show up. I gave up hope and joined a game of Junta.
At 5 pm someone fitting Dan's description quite well turned up. However, there was nothing I could do, since he was attanding an official society meeting.
At 5.30 Dan left. I checked his identity with the others, ran after him and shot him many times at close range.
I don't know if he is very beautiful any more, but he sure is dead.
He was apparently surprised he lasted this long.
Following an attempt on my life via alcohol poisoning, I was, it would turn out, terminally hung over. Speed Camera repairman, taking time out of his evening job as commander of the navy, walked up behind me and shot me. Repeatedly. Then he shot me again, at which point my sixth sense warned me someone was trying to kill me. Far too slow when hung over...
P.S. One of the police officers should be made wanted for incompetance. The one who described me as blonde. I have never been blonde, and have had black hair all year. Blonde indeed?
Speed Camera Repairman 'Editor' has been promoted to Ticket Inspector.
One of the other police officers (Ribena) involved reports:
I played a vital (ish) part in todays action. I happened to take part in the days stake out of the CU Wargaming society in the hope of killing someone. I even carried my CPS all the way over there; that thing is heavy when you have to carry it over such great distances! But the temptation of actually being able to see my room from my stake out point, and the fact that there was only really one place to hide so more than one person was useless, meant I retreated to the safe haven of my room, and some work. When I returned I was returned later I was tempted by a game that seemed very confusing, but had to attend a commitee meeting (if you know what commitee answers on a postcard to Ribena@assassin.org) so left the capable Officer Editor in charge of the situation. And he did well......