I got into the office bright and early this morning, logged onto my iMac and found a message from a Very Important Person. The message informed me that there was a contract on a former client, and that if the contract could be fuflfilled that very morning, a bonus would be mine. Now bonuses are not to be scoffed at, especially those of the VIP, so I told my secretary to cancel all appointments for the morning whilst I decided on a plan of action. A cappuccino and cinnamon bagel in hand, it soon became apparent that the most effective solution would be to leave a bomb on the door of the target my VIP wanted eradicating. As it was still early, I swiftly made to the stairwell and left the explosives charged. I look forward with eager anticipation to hear that I fulfilled the terms of agreement, and that another big fat bonus cheque is in the post.
Somebody put a bomb on my door this morning, somewhere betweeen 2:30 and 7 am, which is very enterprising. It was a small bottle with a cracker snap, one end of which was taped to the bottle, and one to my door. Fortunately for me, when I opened the door, the sellotape that should have been firmly stuck to my door came off, without triggering the bomb.
On attempting to leave my room for the first time on this bright and sunny
morning, I opened my door a crack to discover a suspicious looking piece of
string across it and a very visible bottle.....
A pair of scissors was inserted through the gap.....
I then stood behind the chimney breast in my room and pulled open my door with a piece of string attached to the handle. No bangs, not even any little sparks. How disappointing.
After checking carefully for booby traps I removed the sorry looking
specimen which, as it turned out, would actually have pulled the sellotape
from the party popper on opening the door.
I suspect Bobby Fett may be a heavy drinker as my bomb, like the one in Lobachevsky's report, consisted of a very large bottle of Chekov Imperial Vodka. And I can't help wondering why the disclaimer on the bomb had very pretty College crests on it.
Due to the weather conditions our man is out of Havana. Quite a good thing for us actually. I'm a fame, am I wrong? My time pull mission practically begun as it was due to end, preparation not too HOT. 07764100100 is what I see in front of me, difficult to resist I leave quickly. Time is almost as crucial as sound. The watch has been synced to the correct hour, Hazel would be proud of me. A sorry assassin sleeps, I am Meg now! Why change gun? Water is queen. The bomb has been placed.
The bomb rotated under the spotlights, the cream and magnolia wiring reciprocated in the shimmers of fluidic explosive, pregnant in the glass body, "...volume 5 litres, blast radius 6.6m..." Volumes expanded and contracted within the sphere, a delicate play of light caught in one of man's baubles. "...a smaller bomb was also found nearby..." the red wiring assumed the fore, magnified like an impossible red eyelid in the shifts of chemical. I looked away.
"...Our survival is only possible due to the diligence of one nearby friend."
'Do we know who's responsible?'
The eye'd disappeared again, but who broke the gaze first?
I am never forget ze day, when first person dare go to my room. Sadly zo zis person do not dare knock, but just doz leave bomb on ze door. Bomb be low-tech party-popper arrangement of 2.5m blast radius. Ze ztring connecting party popper and doorski be cut and zen after careful examination ze bomb be removed from ze door. Artwork on dizclaimer be much more impressive zan bomb itself. KGB sources indicate target haz colour printer, do not be from my college (ze crezt of my college be on disclaimer) and drinkz Chevkov Imperial Vodka (ze explozive be in Vodka bottle). Zis make sources believe assassin be misled defector from KGB, now working for ze capitalists.
One man survives a bomb,
One man stays in the game,
And Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevsky is his name!
Two honorless incompetents were slaughtered this evening in the Corpus bar by one of the brave members of the Guild Police force. This is their story:
Cue theme song
Scene One: The room (Camera slowly sweeps across room)
PC Bun Bun sat peacefully reading a book, blissful unaware of the world around him. Music played gently in the background, soothing his mind. Having been busy this afternoon, he decided to check out the Assassins' Guild web page to see if anything interesting had been posted about the days Battle. Much to his surprise, he noticed that the new incompetent list had been posted. Much to his horror, he noticed that two of the honourless incompetents came from Corpus Christi. Such a blight on the honor of Corpus Assassins could not be tolerated... The incompetents must die in such a manner as to provide a warning to any who would dare court such dishonor.
Cue dramatic music.
Scene Two: The plan
PC Bun Bun faced a problem. What method of death would be suitable for the two incompetents, Mr. Jamie Fryer and Mr. Matt Whiteley? Especially for Mr. Fryer, who had killed a fellow member of Corpus Hostium in cold blood. A private death in their rooms, with the bodies left for the bedders to discover would not remove the blemish. A public death then, but what weapons? Suddenly, a plan unfolded in PC Bun Bun's mind, a marvelous plan, a devious plan, a violent plan, a marvelously deviously violent plan. PC Bun Bun would provide chance for the incompetents to restore their honor in their defense. At the same time, PC Bun Bun would make an attempt to win the coveted Order of the Black Coat and the Sean Connery Award. Cut to shot of Bun Bun donning the Grey Trenchcoat and preparing weapons. PC Bun Bun would disregard his own safety by throwing stealth and subtlety into the wind, laughing at the face of danger. He would make the kill wearing a gray trenchcoat (unfortunately lacking the even less subtle black trenchcoat), a trademark of a proper assassin with a clearly visible weapon. Even better, both targets would likely be in the college bar, providing an opportunity for PC Bun Bun to make a very public statement (perhaps the consideration of this fact deserves a J Doe Award). PC Bun Bun proceeded to put on the jacket, taking several weapons, including the one he had decided on for the kill. Our hero briefly considered also wearing a deerstalker and taking his pipe along. Such accessories would befit his status as a member of the Guild Police and might make him stand out even more. Unfortunately, they might also make the targets assume he had worn his Halloween costume, removing any fears, so they were discarded.
Scene Three: The Approach
Cut to shot of PC Bun Bun stepping out onto Trumpington Street, coat moving slightly as he walks in the gently breeze.
Approaching the bar, PC Bun Bun looked quickly through the windows, establishing the position of the two dishonored individuals in question. Both were indeed in the bar, sitting at different tables and surrounded by numerous innocents. PC Bun Bun was aghast, how could anyone enjoy a pint while sitting next to such shameful persons? Neither seemed aware that they stood seconds from death.
Scene Four: The Fury
Cut to shot of PC Bun Bun approaching bar door. Cue tranquil music, instrumental. Show in slow motion.
PC Bun Bun unsheathed the Samurai Sword hidden beneath the coat, entering the bar with it held in his left hand, at shoulder height. For Bun Bun time moves slowly, he is detached from his surroundings. Mr. Whiteley sits with his back towards his demise. One of his companions notices the gray clad figure, the emotionless face, the drawn sword, and stares in puzzlement. Mr. Whiteley does not turn until it is too late. PC Bun Bun feels sad for he had hoped for better than this, had hoped that Mr. Whiteley would take some action to redeem his honor. Alas, it was not to be. PC Bun Bun's emotionless voice said, "I am sorry that it had to come to this" while the sword cleanly sliced through Whiteley's neck, neatly removing the head. So skillful was the swordsmanship that the head did not fall onto the bar table for several seconds. The hero had but a second to savor the removal of the blight on the honor of all Corpus assassins for there was a second blight to remove. Continuing the fluid sword stroke, Bun Bun turned to face Mr. Fryer. By this point, most of the inhabitants of the bar realized that something unusual was happening; perhaps a few even could guess as the cause for these events. PC Bun Bun barely recognized the fear that appeared on many of the faces as he focused on his next target. Mr. Fryer realized what fate awaited him should he not act. Unfortunately, in his incompetence he had neglected to carry a weapon with him to the bar. He quickly rose to his feet amidst the screams of the bystanders. Skillfully, he grasped the table he had been sitting at and used it as a shield against Bun Bun's first slice with the sword. Ah, thought Bun Bun, this would be a real kill, worthy of a true member of Corpus Hostium. He quickly reversed the direction of his sword, taking a second to ponder the situation. Jamie held the shattered remains of the table, defiant but still unarmed. PC Bun Bun never even considered drawing the pistol he had brought along. A thin smile appeared on PC Bun Bun's face as the sword moved again, cleanly removing Mr. Fryer's head amidst the renewed screams of the bystanders. He quietly asked "Is it not nifty?" but received no response. Time began to move more quickly; for the first time he noticed the music playing in the bar. Deciding that the blight on the Guild's honour had been removed, PC Bun Bun resolved to leave. No explanation was given to the bystanders; if they did not already understand what had happened no explanation would suffice. Returning the sword to its sheath under the gray coat, he calmly walked back out the way he came oblivious to the blank stares of dozens of witnesses. He decided that it was indeed nifty. His namesake would be proud.
Camera Slowly moves across the carnage in the bar. Cue the End Credit Music from the movie the Untouchables.
Scene Five: Untitled
And with that, PC Bun Bun walked off into the darkness. The honor of all Corpus Assassins had been redeemed, for now at least. Countless bystanders would serve as witnesses when the rest of the Guild Police showed up later that evening. Perhaps he should have worn the deerstalker; he might have to in the future to give incompetents a fighting chance. He really should have brought the pipe, he thought as he noticed the coolness of the night air. There would be more killings in the future but PC Bun Bun could care less, for he had a nice book to read.
(PC Bun Bun will return in On The Guild's Not So Secret Service.)
Cue Closing Credits.
PC Bun Bun would like to thank the countless innocents that served as extras during scene four and would like to apologize for any trauma they may have experienced and any nasty blood stains.
For dedication to the force and proven competence in battle, PC BunBun earns his sergeant stripes and joins the newly formed "Nifty Division".
Having diligently checked the assassin's guild website earlier in the day I
had discovered I was on the wanted list, so as to avoid my own downfall I
thought that a pre-emptive strike would be wise. So on leaving to go to the
pub I took my trusty knife and stabbed Agent Fez at approximately 9:30pm, as
I felt my cover would soon be blown. She was not best pleased.
Having done this I thought that maybe the ghost of Agent Fez might haunt me by informing other police of my wherabouts, so on discovering Agent Blue in her local haunt, the college bar, I stabbed her too. You may believe this was rather gutless, but it was necessary, and the carnage will continue.
So to all cops, especially those from Downing:
Come and get me if you think you're hard enough!
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