Early... Another bomb attempt.

On awakening, I was informed by my intelligence officer that a bomb was placed outside my door between 07:36.07 and 07:38.02 this morning. Opening my door, as usual, with string from my bedroom (where I can survive at least a 7 metre blast) an expected bang followed.

This time, I was more cautious knowing how lucky I'd been last time. I suspected booby traps so I put gloves on to remove the device from my door. The note, rather confusingly, mentions another note *outside* the box, which I've failed to find. Anyway, it all went straight in the bin this time.


12:15... I'm back now, but what's this? To celebrate my return Tom Garnett has had a minor altercation with PC Bri Bubble.

Tom attacked Bjoern outside lectures. Bjoern threw a knife as Tom fired his gun. The shot certainly hit, so Bri Bubble is dead.

Here's Bri Bubble's report:

Having received an offer of a Jamaica Ginger cake bribe from J Doe's Consultant, I happily left the safety of a hidden computer room somewhere in Cambridge to go to my lecture. I was just thinking about how well the biscuit business was going, when I suddenly saw Tom Garnett on his way to lectures. Nothing unusual of course, but instead of continuing towards the lecture theatre, he turned and started walking towards me. At the same time he seemed to be reaching for something in his pocket.

Now, this might not have worried most police officers (Who would want to kill an upright enforcer of the law after all?), but this was a special case, as Tom had announced something to me a few days ago. Namely that should he decide to go wanted, he would do so by shooting me. I had checked the news mere seconds ago, so I knew he was not wanted (yet), however considering all facts, I came to the conclusion that he intended to kill me. This was a dilemma: as a police officer I could not draw first and I knew his draw was quick and his gun very accurate.

I decided that my only chance was to throw one of my knifes, getting out any other weapon would have taken too long. I palmed one of my hidden knifes, prepared to throw it and kept on walking towards him. He seemed to quicken his steps and tensed the arm that had reached into his pocket.

When we were about 6 yards apart, he attacked and everything happened in slow motion: He started drawing his gun from his pocket, I let the knife appear in my hand, he began raising the gun, with a flick of my wrist I threw the knife, he fired, bullet and knife passed each other in mid-air, the knife flew spinning towards him, the bullet ripped through my chest, the blade of the knife chopped through his arm and chest, a lot of blood, the world goes red.
Redness.
Darkness.

The knife wound has proved very serious: Tom was taken promptly to Addenbrooke's where life-saving surgery was performed on his upper right arm. He has now recovered, but the surgeons were unable to save his arm.
Tom now returns as "The Ambidextrous Avenger", wanted and not as well armed as before.

Restate my assumptions:

  1. Murder is the language of nature.
  2. Everything around us can be represented and understood through killing.
  3. If you graph these kills, patterns emerge.

Therefore: There are patterns everywhere in the Game.

But wait. There is a flaw in the pattern, there must be Murder where there is not one. I must kill, but I cannot. The pattern is destroyed.

Personal note: When I was little my mother told me not to stare into the sun, so when I was six I did.

The image burns there still, red. I see red. If the pattern is destroyed, everything ends. Therefore the pattern must not be destroyed. So I must excise the killing. Bjoern is in front of me. I see red.

It's survival of the fittest, Bri, and we've got the f**king gun!

I see more red. But he does not. But a part of me is missing. My arm. Gone. I am incomplete.

There will be no order, only chaos.


He failed to find Alex Cairns.

I head for the source. If this pattern is to be obliterated, it must be at the root. But He is gone. He isn't there. So I don't kill him. But I will. Or everything will end.

Something's going on. It has to do with that murder. There's an answer in that murder.

But I welcome the end.


19:15... The Ambidextrous Avenger goes cop hunting. PCs Pickavance, Ogden, O'Leary and Cripps die.

Restate my assumptions:

  1. Murder is the language of nature.
  2. Everything around us can be represented and understood through killing.
  3. If you graph these kills, patterns emerge.

Therefore: There are patterns everywhere in the Game.

The Game is afoot. I am half alive, but yet more alive. I must kill. I cannot kill. But I can, for I am not dependent. I can live without.

Happy birthday, Fluffy.

I have an ending. I am at the beginning. I need a middle. I seek. I find. I list, categorise, dismiss, trim and decide. I have a route. I have my middle.

Studying the pattern made Fluffy conscious of itself. I had to... Before it died it spit out the killing. That consciousness is the kill?

I depart, I have entered the middle. I reach the first. But it is open. I enter. But it is empty. It is dark. I mourn.

No, Tom. It's only a nasty rabbit.

But there. There is another way. I enter once more. I find. I end. Much joy. Vindicare is not.

And thus, Ambidexterous solves the problem. He screams "Eureka" and he is so overwhelmed he runs dripping naked through the streets to the umpire's palace to report his discovery.

And I am. And I depart and enter. I search, wander, seek, ponder, and then find. I go up. I reach the top. I announce my presence. He approaches. Unaware. The door is open. I attack.

It's survival of the fittest, McGoo, and we've got the f**king gun!

Crusher, crushed. I depart, I enter. Mu is not stupid. I ask admittance. He denies. I congratulate. I depart. I enter. Orange asks identity. I answer "Tom." He queries. "Tom." He professes recognition. I shrug. He opens door.

It's a door, Chris. It's a door.

I aim. I fire. He moves. I miss. I aim. I fire. I do not fire. Gun defective. I retreat. I rearm. He fires. He misses. He is not well supplied with ammunition, ordnance, projectiles, or weaponry. I redeploy. He dies.

A door at the front of a cliff. You're driving yourself over the edge.

I depart. I enter. Meeting is delayed. Thesps prevalent. His Eminence is without. I shoot. I enter. I am at the End.


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