I've finally killed somebody! I dispatched Matthew Bennett with two shots to the neck. Apparently, he's been avoiding lectures for the last week, came to one today, and was inhumed with extreme impoliteness. *chuckle*
Standing in the foyer of college I overheard a girl say she was concerned
that a package which had just arrived for her could be poisoned or a
bomb... Only an assassin would even think about this, so it caught my
attention. I had been patrolling near Laura's room recently but as yet
had not managed to see what she looked like... but I had noticed that she
was on the parcel list.
I waited behind her knowing that she would ask for her package. The second she confirmed she was Laura, it was all over. Noludaq did what he knows best.
Arriving back from a supervision today I spotted that I had a parcel to pick up from the porter's lodge. I was suspicious as I wasn't expecting one... was there foul play at work? But it turned out the parcel was the least of my worries as, on giving the porter my name and waiting for him to find it, i was knifed maliciously in the back. Bol**cks.
Upon being informed that my good friend Amber the cat was allocated to
me as a new victim I quickly formulated a most cunning of plans. Since my
soon-to-be victim was in Wales for the weekend, I had time to procure the
necessary equiptment and to mentally prepare myself for the assassination
and my friend's imminent death.
At a convienient moment that I was not doing work and it was likely that my victim would also not be similarly detained I sent an innocent text message requesting her prescence in my room for a nice hot cup of tea. Who could resist something as civilised and seemingly innocent as a hoy refeshing cup of English tea. To my surprise she not only came at once, but she came bearing gifts for me. My initial thoughts were "do I just stab her now, take them and run, or do I execute my fiendish plan?" Naturally the gentlman in me prevailed and the plan commenced.
She sat down and engaged in polite conversation, not realising what imminent fate wsa to befall her. Earlier that day, a mug had been nominated, had its innards lined with Tobasco sauce, and was stored in a sufficiently high place for her not to notice its dangerous contents. Just as planned she sat in my strategically positioned chair so that the angle subtended by her field of vision was too steep for see what lay within the mug of death.
We continued with our discussion as I carried on with the tea making ritual (bags will never be as good as properly prepared leaves!). Just as I suspected the brown hue of the beverage provided ample camouflage for what lay with the deadly concoction. The only risk was quantity, there had been sufficiently little to discolour the drink, but was there sufficient to be tasted?
Upon recieving the drink her first response was the smell. "Had I used so much as to produce a telling pungent odour that was to give the whole game away?" As with every other detail of the plan, I was prepared for such an eventuality: "Its a new tea I bought in the market that I thought I might try," I said.
Did she accept my explanation? Of course she did. So believable was my account that she instantly put the mug to her mouth and sipped the vial concoction. She did not live long....
Who would have believed that such a beutifuly simple and elegant plan could be executed so effortlessly and without a hitch? Such are the fools that play this game and dare mess with the SMALL PINK PUSSY CAT!!!!
Evil small pink fluffy pussy cat spent the last two days in a foul foul mood, so when he/she/it texted the Cat with a request to join it for tea in the kitty basket, the Cat ran to its aid with symapathy and a gift of some rather fine duck eggs. The tea making ceremony ensued, and just as Cat was about to offer pink fluffy thing some executive relief for it's woes, it offered her the poisoned chalice. Tasting the brew, Cat spat out "What the f*** have you put in this??" before breathing her last. Killed, oh woe, by a friend she had sought to comfort. And those duck eggs were precious, too. They were going to last the Cat the whole term. She's not going home again... sob...
Please be aware that the views expressed above do not necessarily represent the views of the author, anyone she knows, or indeed anyone at all.
I, Night Rider, have attempted an assassination today by form of a bomb (a balloon.) I attached it to the door with a note saying "This bomb will be triggered by any form of contact."
Unfortunately, Night Rider hadn't read the rules properly: all bombs have to have an audible detonator, so this one didn't count.
At 19:00 precisely, after passing a group of gown wearing matriculands,
we climbed the stairs into the architectural travesty that is Harvey
Entering through an open door, we swiftly made our way to the target's
staircase. Our disguises were perfect, and the dark clothing did not
appear to stick out at all, amongst the suited and gowned Caians. All
time we were aware that he could, at any minute, leave the building and go
and consume vast quantities of wine at 'tric dinner. Wine that was not
But our timing was spot on. At 19:03, a figure matching the description of a certain Joseph Lindsay appeared from his staircase (I knew it was his staircase, because I had made the trek the previous night, to find the scheming swine out). I ran up to him, shouting his name. He turned briefly, confused. I whipped out my trusty "Detective Special" and pointed it at him. My finger reached for the trigger, and the fear was immediately visible on his face.
I shot... The gun misfired.
I shot again... The gun misfired.
But this was just a cunning plan, to lull him into a false sense of
security. After the fifth misfire, he began to relax. And reach for his
pocket. It was time to kill him. My gun twice spat fire at him, making
his body leak like a poorly designed water pistol.
One less customer for the enemy. The other booze barons out there should be afraid... very afraid.
I have tried to eliminate Mr. Jared Johnson again, by contact poison to his door - he was due to come back to his room after steel band practice in an hour, so I judged that he alone would touch the door knob.
NB. This, I stress again, is not a valid reason for it being safe... many other people could touch the handle: a bedder, a friend of the target, another assassin. - Umpire
Having put the toothpaste on the doorhandle, however, two giggly girls came from the room next door. I asked them if they knew Jared, and the immediately exclaimed 'Are you trying to kill him?'- upon which my face fell, I had been found out! But no - The girls actually cried 'can we help?' so I related the method of elimination and they agreed to be witnesses when he was killed by the poison. But to my dismay they then told me that Jared had already been killed. I left the poison anyway, I want to get the guy after his dis on my 1st attempt on his life.
Having left the poison in situ, you're wanted, I'm afraid. Yes indeed, Christine Twite of Peterhouse is wanted for the most heinous crime of misuse of contact poison. Fare thee well, all who would seek her downfall. - Umpire
Lo, how we doth creep most silently to her room, and with guise most cunning entice her forth... only to be informed that she had been poisoned that afternoon! Honestly. The first time in a week she's been in, and she's already dead!!
There appeared to be a party going on next door to our target's room, so with an accomplice, I approached and enquired if Mark was in. When this elicited no response (there not actually being a Mark on that staircase) I said I thought that he was in room 10. Unwisely (possibly due to the fact that he was rather inebriated) Miles responded that that was his room.
--- *bang* ----
Obviously it is never safe for an assassin to get drunk...
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