The Assassins' Guild - Week 5 News
The Assassins' Guild - Week 5 NewsThe Professor of love and I tried to eliminate one Mario after dinner this evening. We lurked about his residence for a little while, but in the end we didn't find the target. He will be unable to hide from Tristan Maxwell for long...
It seems fate has decided that Tristan Maxwell's time as an assassin is up. As I ventured out for my morning lectures, I was brutally stabbed in the back by Raspberry Skelter. I guess it is time for me to go back to doing what I do best: being a mediocre duelist/physicist...
Raspberry Skelter was daydreaming about the exploits of a gang of crimo-saurs* when he was surprised to see a dinosaur wearing a top hat burst out from the nearby jewellery store, with a bag of swag slung over one shoulder.** The shopkeeper ran out after the dinosaur, aimed his shotgun and was stabbed in the back. Raspberry Skelter wiped his blade on his drupelets and muttered that he disapproved of killing extinct species.
*those lovable thieving bastards
**he wondered why there was a "SWAG!" label embroidered on the bag.
Historian's note, 2532 AD, Neon Raspberry Gamma Gamma Gammon1218 - This account is a fascinating snapshot of the everyday goings-on between the humans and the dinosaurs and is a compelling illustration of the social tensions between the two major ethnic groups of this time period.
extracted from The Transition to Fruit-based Civilisation; the rise and fall of the blood-based lifeform, by Neon Raspberry Gamma Gammon 1218.
The cautious ASNaC held his fire, and so went without breakfast :(
I watched from affar as he made contact with an associate. I could not hear what they were saying but when he suddenly glanced over and alerted him to my presence. I knew I would have to act quickly to survive. I fled and hid in the shadows of an alleyway. When many people had gone past, I pursued but he was nowhere to be found... Then he jumps me from behind, narrowly missing as I very stylishly jump into a wall. He saw that I had gun ready to fire and fled round a corner. We fought for several minutes with him losing a leg.
We'll meet again, both know where, both know when...
Bambi had a brief run in with a scary hunter, Door2Door Salesman, and after a lot of frantic frolicking and running away, and retaliation but small deer are easily outmatched, Bambi limped off to lick his wounds.
The Batmobile roars down the streets of Gotham, as Batman's mind races. The entire gang war has been a distraction, to hide something far more sinister. Far more dangerous.
The League of Shadows.
An atomic bomb.
Ra's Al Ghul was dead. But that wouldn't have stopped the League from gaining another figure-head. And now they are back, once more trying to destroy Gotham City.
The gang war has claimed many lives, but that is nothing compared to the death toll that would be wrought by an atomic blast. But this is his city. The Dark Knight will not let them do such a thing.
From S.a.l.o's hard drive, he ascertained a single location. The docks.
And as the batmobile drives into the darkness, Batman knows that this night shall bring a reckoning.
The Second Hand Biro Salesman and his Zombiez companions leafed through their notes carefully. The biro trafficking was being halted. Thugs scared to go out on the streets at night and push the pens to the public. The west European underground biro ring was in jeopardy due to one thing:
"Batman!" exclaimed the Villain. "He's doing more damage to me than this city's police department ever did, especially that pansy of a Commissioner. He needs to be taken out... PENmanantly!" He smirked to himself at his witty pun.
"brains." agreed The Zombiez.
"There are rumours of an alliance between this Dark Knight and the Commissioner. He may even go back on our deal where I get him those Bic Mediums he so enjoys in exchange for clemency."
"brains." murmured The Zombiez, worriedly.
"No matter! We'll take that bastard out too! We'll take out the whole police force! I reckon we can even get a few of them on our side. Robert Mitchum has always been partial to a good Schaeffer Number 2-nib back-hander. Perhaps we could even get... The Joker!"
"brains." giggled The Zombiez, in excited anticipation.
"So that's settled then. I need to make a few phone calls... get me Bic Central HQ..."
Arriving at the docks, The Dark Knight steps forth from the Batmobile. Mist swirls through the darkness as Batman makes his way between great steel shipping containers. A device on his wrist gives a constant readout of the ambient radiation.
The device chimes as he passes by a container marked with the logo of the Bic Central HQ. Batman pauses, then turns and approaches the metal doors of the container. They swing open at the touch of a hand.
The device chimes again, and he disables it. The container is empty, except for a metallic box with a digital readout.
00:09
00:08
Batman races forwards, crouching beside the box and losing precious seconds as he uses a miniature power saw to cut into the case.
00:04
He pulls back the metal, opening the box.
00:03
Wires run from the digital display, to a battery, and to a lump of metal.
00:02
Batman frowns - his radiation detector is not showing nearly enough rad/s for this to be a real atom bomb.
00:01
He does nothing.
00:00
99:99
It was a dud. A fake. Yet another distraction.
"Batman. At last." The voice comes from the doorway into the container
Turning slowly, the Dark Knight removes a small round object from his utility belt and rolls it into one of the corners of the shipping crate. A man stands at the opening to the outside. There are a collection of shambling figures surrounding him.
"Who are you?"
The man smiles. "Me? I'm just a Second-hand Biro Salesman... And these are The Zombiez. Brilliantly dedicated employees, provided you keep the brainz coming. But you... you are an annoyance."
"The League of Shadows - a deception?"
"Indeed. One of my better I might add, but we Biro sellers are resourceful. We even have men in the White House. Well... pens. Pens with listening devices. And in case you were wondering: the weapon's grade plutonium? You'd be amazed what you can find in ink these days... But you've been a pain recently. Business has been down since you've been frightening my sellers off the streets. So this is where we put you out of business."
"You orchestrated a gang war... to get to me?"
"Only up to a point. There was a profit margin as well to consider. All this fighting between the mafia dons has generated an amazing amount of paperwork." He twiddles a Bic crystal in his fingers. "And all paperwork needs pens." A
wicked smile touches his lips. "Zombiez?"
"Brains?" queries the
shambling horde.
"Get him."
"BRAINZ!!!"
A very interesting proposition was put to me earlier involving the need for a stable biro-related supply chain into this city, the merits of "cooperating" with "legitimate businessmen" and how the so called law enforcement seemed to be misled into the beliefs that there was some form of crime happening involving this.
"Pish," I said, "I have no need for biros, can you not plainly see that I have no need of writing implements, as I am without arms, something of your doing I believe, Mr. Second Hand Biro Salesman."
"Ah, but this is not just a matter for which personal gain is important, I am sure that a philanthropist such as yourself can look past that and see that it is the city that need this, not simply you or I," he replied.
And so, I set out feeling righteous in my mission (and maybe it had something to do with the large crate of Staples' mediums now adorning my garage).
It just so happened, that at about 2 o'clock today, while minding my own business, I stumbled across one nocturnal duck, one of these biro-less delusioned policemen of whom I was warned. Nonetheless, I can safely say that he can no longer ruin all the biro related plans I have in store with his ignorance, as he now is resting at the bottom of a ditch with one of my favourite items of writing implement lodged in his neck (do not ask how I achieved this being only a disembodied head, my ways are both mysterious and fun).
Today I did some more work for the police war. Specifically, I went to _unspecified_ at 8:30am, and shot shluf in his bed (bang kill). I then went and lurked outside The Dude With The AK-47 App's house until shortly past 9, then outside The Death of Teaspoons's house until 9:20, then the Cockroft lecture theatre until just past 10. While lurking there, I saw The Amulet, Charlie! Sparkle sparkle! approach (from the one direction I didn't have a good line of fire on), and took a potshot at him with a NERF pistol, but this fell a couple of feet short (he won't have noticed it). I then went and waited briefly outside Captain Cephalopod's house.
Then I attempted to be a normal Cambridge person for some time, which is always a little tricky when carrying five guns, including a rifle, and multiple knives. Somehow I managed it, and returned to lurk the vending machines outside the Cockroft at 10 to 11. I waited for about 15 minutes (until the next lecture started), but The Amulet, Charlie! Sparkle sparkle! didn't come out to get food, so I left in disappointment.
At about 11.05 Bambi got lonely and decided that he needed to find some friends but sadly after checking everywhere he could think of for Professor of love and lingering for a while in the hopes that he would return, he gave up alone and depressed.
The illustrious Chief of Police came to visit about an hour ago. He walked into me as I walked out of my room, drew first, and fired. My head whipped sideways, and that shot missed. The couple seconds this bought me was enough for me to draw my own gun and fire a shot back, as another hail of bullets slammed into my chest and arm. A dispute arose over whether I had died first, or a doublekill had occurred, so we duelled.
This was with water with care guns across the whole of Mem Court. Some sneakiness later, and I was shot in the back, side, and front (I spun a short moment too late). This therefore confirmed my death.
The Zombiez charge forwards, and Batman flicks a switch on his wrist. The small round object that he had rolled into a corner beeps once, and then explodes with blinding light. The Zombiez stagger backwards, stunned, as does the Second-hand Biro Salesman himself. When they recover, they see that the container is empty. The Dark Knight is gone.
"Brainz..." mutter The Zombiez remorsefully.
Batman hurries through the docks. A horde of undead, under the control of a crazed, but well connected, biro-salesman. His cape flowing out behind him as he dashes through the night, he puts a finger to one ear. "Gordon, I need back-up at the docks-"
A bladed wok comes spinning out of the darkness, as he drops to the ground, rolling. A figure emerges from the shadows, drawing another of the bizarre weaponry.
"Tithe my Woks..." it hisses, throwing another.
Throwing a batarang to deflect the second wok out of the air, Batman scrambles to his feet and dodges sideways between two shipping containers.
It isn't long before he encounters the strange figure again, but this time it is at a distance, with both Batman and the villain having cover. The man is wearing the same uniform as the Second-hand Biro Salesman himself - The Dark Knight assumes that he is some sort of deputy.
After a second brief series of attacks, during which a thrown batarang cripples the wok thrower's legs, the villain retreats, crawling away to disappear into the sea mist before Batman can catch him.
But The Dark Knight is not to be underestimated.
As Tithe My Wok (the only name by which this mysterious individual is known) picks himself, he glances around and draws another wok. Reaching the corner of a shipping container, he glances around.
No-one in sight.
Readying himself to be attacked at any moment, and eager to be the one who finally slays the Batman, he moves around the corner. A short run, his shoes pounding in the dirt as he tries to keep eyes in all directions, before he sidesteps into an alcove, catching his breath.
But The Dark Knight was already in this alcove, and a batarang to the back, coupled with a blow to the head, neutralises Tithe My Wok.
Batman moves on, unwilling to leave the unconscious villain behind him, but aware that he cannot afford to delay. Who knows how many other minions of the Second-hand Biro Salesman still wait in the darkness? Doubtless he will meet Tithe My Wok again...
Bambi went looking for new friends and though they were in found no one would come out and play.
Rave Blue World woke up this morning. This surprised him as usual, since he'd never seen the validity of inductive reasoning. However, not one to shake his nose at an opportunity, or turn his foot up, he hurried over to greet Door2Door Salesman with a morning wake up call. This involved water.
It was a short treck of about 10m coming out of the shower. I saw a person walking onto the balcony above my room but thought nothing of it. He turned, shot at me before I even could recognise him as an assassin- let alone remove my gun. Oh well... In other news, I am out of eccles cakes.
"It's true Cap'n, I know it t'be true!" The minion nodded most emphatically. "Biro-trafficking, eh?" The giant of a man stroked his matted black beard thoughtfully. He had always been used to plundering for good ol' gold and silver, but the world was changing. Now the big business was in biro pens. Stunningly useful, unlimited demand. The gaunt-faced buccaneer began to chuckle, which sounded more like a deep growl, in the smokey tavern. "Phone this man," he snarled to the minion, "tell him that I am....at his service". Extracting one of the many biros lodged in his beard he snatched a roll of parchment and wrote:
THE SECOND-HAND BIRO SALESMAN.
Birobeard may have been the unpredictable sort, but his allegiance was welcome in a world where the market of biros was being forced underground by an increasingly heavy-handed police force. But there was to be no blackmail with Birobeard. No negotiations. No captives. No agreements. His pistol would speak for him more than he did; speak even more than the words penned by any biro he owned.
Stationed on the New Museum Sites the following morning, he waited for the clocks to strike twelve. He was joined, unexpectantly, by the ghost of an old-pirate friend, who heartily offered to point out The Amulet, Charlie! Sparkle sparkle!, the policeman who'd been suppressing the biro-trafficking ring on the east side of town. No more, for when the scallywag appeared, he was identified by the ghost, and shot at near point-blank range by Birobeard. It was a hasty death, not least because lectures were beginning. Birobeard growlingly chuckled to himself, and followed the maths students in. Today was a good day for corruption indeed.
Another day, another failed attempt. I again lurked the hell out of where I thought Raspberry Skelter might be, but the plan failed horribly as I ran around like a nutter trying to save my beloved friendly corrupt police officer who felt somehow threatened and apparently missed the target.
Professor of Luuuurve.
I'm away this Saturday and most of Sunday in Oxford
Adam Guterres and Luke James Montgomery Robins are OoB as they are off doing varsity! Feel free (and bonus points) to anyone who gets William Keen in Oxford...
The Batman, having returned to the Batmobile from defeating the One with the Woks, and fighting off his Zombiez and Pen-Pushing nemeses, heaved a great, gritty sigh as he sank into driving seat and shifted the car into gear. He'd fought them all before. Mutants, giant Crocodiles, madmen aplenty, but never one so sinister as this new threat, this Silent Staedtler, this Brilliant Bic, this Biro Bastard.
He tapped a screen to the left of the seat. "Alfred, get me the flight numbers of all the major Biro company delivery planes," he grunted.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Bats" replied Alfred, unusually nasally. Batman swung his chair around to face the main monitor.
"YOU!" he roared, as the face of this new villain spread across his screen like the ink from the faulty fountain pen of fate into the white shirt-pocket of destiny.
"Yes, Batman, it is I. We've jacked the signal from your fancy car. Not pleased were we when you ran away from our little trap previously."
"brainz." agreed The Zombiez.
"So we've cooked up something a little... well, it'll make you rePENtant of your crimes, at least." A smirk spread across the Biro Salesman's face like a forest fire. "Do you know who my favourite poet is, by the way, Bats? It's Byron! Get it?! BIRON! BIRO-N. You understand, you see! Nya-hahahahaha!!!" It was worse than The Dark Knight could have foreseen. The fiend was resorting to bad puns. "Anyway, enough of my jokes, they are becoming quite rePENtitive... it's time you saw the newest policeman in his latest predicament!"
The Salesman's inky hands spun the camera round to reveal Because of assassins, I can now spell Psuedonym, being dangled over the edge of a massive crate full of fountain pens, all points facing upwards. The only thing preventing his fall was the teeth of The disembodied head of film noir legend: Robert Mitchum clasped tightly around his collar. The boy looked terrified.
"Now, Bats m'lad, we have a proposition for you. You agree to hand over the City to us, we let this one live. How about that then?"
"You won't do it, Biro Salesman. You're unhinged, deranged even, but you wouldn't resort to that. Couldn't you go back to those heady days in Staples when you earned an honest living working behind a counter? People respected you, man! They would ask your opinion on nib-sizes, and ink capacity levels in the leading brands. You were worth something once. You really meant something to people."
The Biro Salesman looked stunned for a second. Then, that familiar scowl returned to his face, as if it was drawn on by a Stabilo Xtra-Fine.
"No dice, bats! Now he dies! Robert, do your worst!"
The Disembodied Head let go of its charge, and he began to plummet toward the points below. Just as he fell, he managed somehow to grab the Disembodied head off its plinth and take it with him. They both screamed as they fell to their sharp, pointy, occasionally scratchy and difficult-to-write-with deaths.
The Salesman cackled.
"They'll keep coming, Bats, the killings. Until you let my traffickers resume their services as normal. Oh, and, as an apology, you can even steal my next shipment for me. There's a supply of Tesco Value Biros heading through the Business District tomorrow. Deliver them to my accomplices who will await you beneath Wayne Tower." And then more loudly, and with less sanity:
"Remember the PEN is mightier than the sword! RePENt for the p'end is nigh! What's the weather like today, oh, I'll just check my BIROmeter! Nya-hahahahahaha!"
The signal was cut.
Batman let his head sink into his hands. He was faced with an impossible decision: let more Police die, or come up with the goods for the Writing Implement Crime Lord. And what was worse still - he thought he might be developing apPENdicitis.
Hello,
We wanderd aroun The Death of Teaspoonss place to eat BRAINS and take all hurr Biros, but door loked. Will bring batterin' ram next taim.
Sincerely,
The Zombiez
Freshly returned from Varsity, I challenged the incompetent Daniel O'Brien to a duel to restore honour to the force. Only then did I remember that I'd used all the water in my gun on Durham. Whoops.
Rose Crescent was curiously empty this evening. But I believe myself and Tithe your own damn wok gave the diners and restauranteurs of Gardie's a good show. The Varsity Match was over now, and the social no-kill aura permeating from The Alchemist-mobile had evaporated into the Trinity Street ether. The time was nigh.
Two former comrades, dual-wielding their ranged weaponry of choice, entered the curved arena. But only one would depart, and the other would be left as a corpse for the La Raza revellers to gawp at, pose with, and vomit upon.
The firefight was brief, but intense, and kept the two of us on our respective toes. I quickly evaluated that the MaxD3000 would far surpass my RBG, and stuck to that for the duration. Tithe your own damn wok foolishly attempted at one point to bridge the distance with his elastic bands of questionable mortality. Eventually he fell, and the crimson liquid permeated from his corpse to go mingling with strands of discarded Gardie's "salad"...
Oh, and, **SPOILERS**, The Duke was there too.
This morning, 11am, New Museum site, the Biro Salesman and the Batman exchange words, not bullets. From a safe distance. Wielding bandguns.
At midnight, the Second-hand Biro Salesman paces in the darkness of a forgotten car park beneath Wayne Tower, surrounded, as ever, by a number of minions. Not The Zombiez - PENding further notice, they had left in order to hunt more brainz, with the vague hope of conquering the world and triggering a Zombie apocalypse.
The Second-hand Biro Salesman is waiting.
"Maybe he ain't coming, boss..." mutters one of the minions.
"He'll be here. Or else another Police Officer dies. We've already managed to organise the death of one of theirs today..." He cackles. "Batman will come here. He will stride into his imPENding doom, just to save his BIRO-loved police force!"
"Doom, boss? I thought he was delivering us some Tesco biros..."
The Salesman casually flicks a sharpened fountain pen at the unfortunate minion. It skewers the poor man's knee, causing him to bleed profusely. "Idiot," comments the Biro-seller, as blue ink mixes with red blood. "Whether or not he brings the pens, he's coming here to die. And he knows this as well as I do, so be ready."
The silence stretched into the darkness, save for the whimperings of the injured minion.
"Salesman."
The Second-hand Biro Salesman glances around in surprise, but sees no-one. "Where are you, bats? Where are my biros? Hiding won't save you from your eventual pen-filled, pain-filled death."
The many minions begin pointing various guns in different directions, and squeezing off bursts of fire, but one by one they disappear into the shadows as a dark shape picks them off.
Sighing, the Second-hand Biro Seller draws a pen from within his cloak, before backing up against a corner as the last of his minions ran screaming from the scene.
The Dark Knight stands before him.
He laughs, hurling the pen to the floor before leaping sideways. The pen explodes, in a burst of inky gas. "Farewell Batman!" he yells as he runs towards a car labelled BIROMOBILE.
Batman staggers, stumbling backwards from the gas, and wiping ink from his eyes.
"Breathe your PENultimate breath!" screams the Second-hand Biro Seller manically, leaning out of the BIROMOBILE window, as he guns the car into life. A spurt of blue ink leaps from the exhaust pipe, before the engine chugs into life. "This car-park is packed with explosives, which will start to blow up just as soon as I click this biro!"
Batman spins, staring at the villain. In his hand, the salesman holds a golden pen, his thumb on one end. And, even as The Dark Knight watches, he clicks it.
A low boom echoes through the building, even as the BIROMOBILE drives away at full speed. Watching the Batman disappear in rear-view mirror, the Second-hand Biro Seller grins to himself. A handbrake turn, followed by putting his foot to the floor, and the BIROMOBILE smashes through the barriers blocking off the disused car-park, even as the entrance collapses in an almighty explosion behind him. Screeching to a halt in the midnight air, the Second-hand Biro Salesman climbs out of the car to observe his handiwork.
A pile of rubble is all that is left of what was once the tunnel entrance to the underground car-park. Above Wayne Tower still stands, but the Second-hand Biro Salesman suspects that it has still sustained a reasonable amount of structural damage. "Always a good thing," he mutters to himself. "The engineers will require pens to draw up their diagrams for the repairs, pens that I can provide..." He looks back at the ruins of the car-park. "Batman. Dead by my hand. As it was always meant to be..."
The rubble shifts.
The Second-hand Biro Salesman stares.
Moments later, there is another boom, and the rubble explodes outwards, huge chunks of concrete flying away. The tank-like BATMOBILE bursts out of the ruins, boosting itself into the air. The Second-hand Biro Salesman watches in amazement, and growing terror, as the BATMOBILE flies true, falling straight towards him. He runs.
The BATMOBILE crashes into the BIROMOBILE, the impact hurling the Salesman onto the ground, stunned but alive. And then he hears it.
The computer on the BATMOBILE.
"Self-destruct activated."
"Oh, Uni-ball..." mutters the Second-hand Saleman, in the manner of a swear word.
BOOM.
****
"Zecond-hand? Iz that you? Can we haz your brainz?"
"No you cannot, they still work," he groans, picking himself up out of the hole that The Zombiez had dug him from, even as he pushed The Zombiez themselves aside. "Is he dead?"
"Iz who dead?"
"Batman." He gestures towards the wreckage of the BATMOBILE.
The Zombiez give a collective shrug. "We find blood. No Brainz."
"Broken nibs..." Mutters the salesman. He checks his phone as it buzzes. "Bic Central HQ. They want me to give up on Bats... As if. This just got PErsoNal." (Don't ask how you pronounce capital letters. Just... Don't.) "Zombiez? We're going private. I'll get bats if it's the PENultimate thing I do."
"But, we haz not got the rezourzez to steal penz by ourzelvez!"
"Fine, we'll steal them from the other Second-handers. Making me a Third-hand Biro Salesman. Or a Second-hand Second-hand Biro Salesman. Whatever: Come on, we've got work to do."
Raspberry Skelter visited the Mushroom Kingdom, hoping to jump on the head of Mario in revenge for all those innocent goombas Mario had murdered. Sadly, there were no plumbers around and Raspberry Skelter left through the nearest warp pipe. As Raspberry Skelter travelled back through the Mushroom Kingdom he noticed an inco policeman (who just happened to be not corrupt), so he carried out a cycle-by stabbing.
One man is born a hero, his brother a coward. Babies starve,
politicians grow fat. Holy men are martyred, and junkies grow legion.
Why? Why, why, why, why, why? Luck! Blind, stupid, simple, doo-dah,
clueless luck!
Two Face stood there, waiting. He saw a mere boy descending, and
slowly drew out a silver coin from his pocket. He flicked it high in
the air, watching carefully as it arced and landed on the floor. There
was a face smiling back at him.
Ah. Fortune smiles. Another day of wine and roses. Or, in your case,
beer and pizza!
"The Dude With The AK-47 App" stood at a crossroad. Well, it wasn't really a crossroad per se, more of a T-junction at Queens Rd/West Rd. He'd gained some time having had a hilariously short supervision, and felt like engaging in a spot of highly lethal sport.
"Heads, Robinson incos. Tails, Mem Court mafia."
Pulling out a coin to flip - but not a real coin actually, as, y'know, there's a Google Android app for that too, not just for Kalashnikovs - he flipped it. Tails it landed. The fates had been consulted, now it was time to make his move.
_Unspecified_Room_ in _Unspecified_Staircase_, the domain of the (technically, seeing as they'll all likely respawn on next update) final remaining corrupt police officer of this Memcourtmaf, proved too elusive for TDWTAK47A, and, feeling slightly peckish, he wandered back into town in search of nommings from a popular retail establishment. With purchasing complete, he headed for the exit.
Suddenly the crash of window panes erupted from the entrance. With a bellowing roar, a red dragon the size of a furry swooped in, Birobeard cackling maniacally atop the saddle, flinging ball point pens of all ink colours from her beard, left right and centre. Civilians scattered, but the weight of his heavy shopping meant TDWTAK47A never stood a chance and could not escape the gaping maw.
The police war of Gotham City had claimed another victim...
Is this the end for Charlie?
Birobeard stroked the pens in his beard thoughtfully.
"Aharr, I'll take me-self a KRAKEN!" He roared dramatically.
"Sorry, all out of those mate", the pet-shop owner replied indifferently, shrugging his shoulders.
"Oh....oh well, umm....I've have a SCYLLA!" He cried triumphantly.
"Nahhhh, sorry" the shop-owner said, scrutinising his fingernails.
"Hrrr, 'tis not good...I'll have a LOCH NESS MONSTER!"
"Haha, they don't even exist," the shop-keeper smirked, biting his fingernails now and looking at the time.
"Yaarr, okay then...I'll take a KRAKEN!"
"Look mate, I got a li'l red dragon, and that's it, alright? 'E's a bit small and weedy-like, but 'e needs a new home, some carin' chap to look after 'im. How bout it?"
Birobeard grumbled, and took a cheque-book out from under his hat.
The dragon was weak weedy little thing, so he attached a piece of twine round its neck and started dragging it back to college. The thing didn't seem to like walking, maybe because it was made of plush-toy-like materials. But as he strode back to his headquarters, he one of Gotham's policemen walked right out, past him! Amazed at first that he hadn't been recognised with his huge plumed hat, shadowed eyes and beard full of biro pens, he didn't react at first. But this is what he'd bought the dragon for. Any opponent to the soaring biro-market was an opponent to his pistol. And now his dragon too.
Quickly meeting up with his first mate, the ghost of Magumbo, Birobeard crept a little way behind the officer, known as The Dude With The AK-47 App, on the long trek to davy-jones-knows-where. The officer seemed alert, perhaps looking for any dropped biro that might give the clue as to the whereabouts of Second-hand-biro-salesman and his associates. But then he turned into the Merchant's Quarters, known to the local wenches as Sainsburys. Birobeard and the ghost of Magumbo stopped here, unsure about causing a fuss inside (whether it was OOB).
A phone call was made to the Second-Hand Biro Salesman, who at Birobeard's inquiry only uttered in reply "Kill him".
So it was. Birobeard dragged his baleful little dragon into the Merchant's Tavern, for once ignoring the rum and jars of dirt on sale, and waiting for the anti-biro-fiend of a policeman to come into view. And when he did, Birobeard gave his dragon every opportunity. He even picked the creature up and took it to the policeman to ensure the kill was made cleanly and defeinitively. And so the Pirate Captain and his Dragon were finally companions in the arena of assassins.
Better still, it has recently turned out that the dragon spits out biros, not fire. Things are really looking up for the criminal-second-hand-biro market; perhaps next they'll even have their own stall next to the rum at Sainsburys. Watch this space.
I've found your daytime lair Raspberry Skelter! One of these days I shall catch you unawares as you leave your card-access fortress! You can't escape for ever, Raspberry Skelter, not for ever!
Yesterday at about 6.20 Bambi and Zombie Commissioner Jim Gordon took an epic trip to lurk outside Raspberry Skelter's room. Sadly he wasn't in but some other scary looking hunters were about.
Bambi
Lurked around _unspecified_ for almost an hour with Two Face, who had kidnapped me. Multiple nefarious incidents ensued including finding the wrong name on Raspberry Skelter's door, bumping into Zombie Commissioner Jim Gordon and very briefly Bambi (before he escaped). Eventually no kills were made, but a lot of suspicious looks were exchanged. All in the day of your average plumber.
All decisions come down to chance. The best plans are ruined by the
most coincidental of things, and people live or die by the flip of a
coin.
Mario saw sweet lady luck smile upon him, showing fate has no
preference for the brave or the heroic or those with a prevalence
towards fungi. It comes and goes and some people live and some people
die.
The abomination that was Zombie Commissioner Jim Gordon was conversing with a broad, and
appeared to have upset the forces of chaos. The coin fell with an air
of death about it, as did Zombie Commissioner Jim Gordon's half rotten corpse. Maybe nothing
can stop this being. Then I had to go. Anywhere. I reached for my gun
and vanished into thin air, still holding the fateful coin in the
other hand.
The umpire would like to note:
- Live uncorrupt police players cannot kill other live uncorrupt police players, unless they are acting aggressively. William "Twillo" Brooks's shot at Joshua Blanchard Lewis hence does not kill, but merely injures him.
-The player with the misleading name on his door has been asked to remove it.
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