The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 News

- event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(803) [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - authpw => [redacted] - submit => Log In - authlogin => true - authuser => ajd224@cam.ac.uk [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - path => /societies/assassins/dbbackup/Mich2017 - submit => Backup [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - college => Christ's - address => The Capital - notes => 1/2 of the umpire's power has been bestowed upon them. - submit => Add - name => Alex Allen - manualcol => The Real World - water => No Water - email => alexandra.allen@cantab.net [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Add - pass => 2 - active => on - pseudonym => President Snow - player => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Player(2) - submit => Edit - report => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Report(111) - pass => 3 - pseudonym => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Pseudonym(103) [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Add - assassins => [__::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79), __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(51), __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(12), __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(29)] - pass => 2 [null] POST Map

[null] Map : - ::chocolate/Check/100 => on - pseudonym3 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Pseudonym(29) - headline => The Duel! - pseudonym2 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Pseudonym(12) - pseudonym1 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Pseudonym(51) - ::chocolate/Check/200 => on - ::chocolate/Text/1 => 4 - pseudonym0 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Pseudonym(79) - visible => on - event-time => 14-10-2017 15:21:27 - ::chocolate/Check/0 => on - ::chocolate/Text/301 => 4 - ::chocolate/Text/201 => 4 - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(0) - assassin0 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - submit => Add - assassin2 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(12) - assassin1 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(51) - assassin3 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(29) - ::watermelon/Text/102 => - ::watermelon/Text/201 => - ::watermelon/Text/202 => - ::watermelon/Text/101 => - pass => 3 - ::watermelon/Text/301 => - ::watermelon/Text/302 => - ::chocolate/Check/300 => on - ::watermelon/Text/1 => - ::chocolate/Text/101 => 4 - ::watermelon/Text/2 => - active => on [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Add Death - victim => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(29) - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(797) - killer => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - pass => 4 [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Add Death - victim => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(12) - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(797) - killer => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - pass => 4 [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Add Death - victim => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(51) - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(797) - killer => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - pass => 4 [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => No More Deaths - victim => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(797) - killer => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - pass => 4

[null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Submit - ::chocolate/Check/2 => on - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(798) - ::chocolate/Check/0 => on - ::chocolate/Check/1 => on [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Edit - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(797) [null] POST Map [null] Map : - update => true - headline => Test Edit - time => 13-10-2017 19:21:27 - submit => Edit - visible => on - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(797) - active => on [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Submit - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(799) - ::chocolate/Check/0 => on [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Add - assassins => [__::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(33), __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(1)] - pass => 2 [null] POST Map [null] Map : - ::chocolate/Check/100 => on - headline => The Umpire forgot to enter a headline. - assassin0 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(33) - pseudonym1 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Pseudonym(1) - pseudonym0 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Pseudonym(33) - ::chocolate/Text/1 => 4 - submit => Add - assassin1 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(1) - event-time => 13-10-2017 20:28:33 - ::watermelon/Text/102 => - ::chocolate/Check/0 => on - ::watermelon/Text/101 => - pass => 3 - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(0) - ::watermelon/Text/1 => - ::watermelon/Text/2 => - ::chocolate/Text/101 => 4 - active => on [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Add Death - victim => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(33) - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(800) - killer => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(1) - pass => 4 [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => No More Deaths - victim => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(1) - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(800) - killer => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(1) - pass => 4 [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map

[null] Map : - submit => Add - assassins => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - pass => 2 [null] POST Map [null] Map : - headline => The Umpire forgot to enter a headline. - assassin0 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - ::chocolate/Text/1 => 4 - pseudonym0 => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Pseudonym(79) - submit => Add - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(0) - event-time => 13-10-2017 20:29:11 - ::watermelon/Text/1 => - ::watermelon/Text/2 => - active => on - ::chocolate/Check/0 => on - pass => 3 [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => No More Deaths - victim => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(801) - killer => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(79) - pass => 4

[null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Edit - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(801) [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map [null] Map : [null] POST Map

- submit => Generate Emails - force => on - output => emails/email.20171013 - pass => 2 [null] POST Map [null] Map : - submit => Send Emails - output => emails/email.20171013 - pass => 3 targetting.open(); raise FatalError;

[null] POST:Map : - headline => EMAIL_GENERATION_FAILURE [null] POST: Ex/on: -submit => GAME_START_COLLAPSE (err:MEMORY_EXCEEDED) [null] POST: Solution => ABANDON_GAME (err: NOT_A_CHANCE) - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(512) (invoke: SUMMON_PHD??) - event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(513) [null] Map : - authpw => [redacted] - submit => Log In - authlogin => true - authuser => twm.stone@cantab.net - raise FatalError:LACK_OF_SOBRIETY_#WONTFIX - switch => competent_user: $EBalani?

GAME_STATUS: ALL_MODULES_FUNCTIONAL

Haha greetings, it is I, Monsieur Breadperson, your favourite cerial killer, jack of all trades and master of Naan!

For this kill, yours truly decided to opt for a humble approach: heading over to [REDACTED] with a copy of Sourdough under my arm, I sat in the staircase of my delightful yet now deceased target and waited with this dough-lightful page turner. I was much rye-led when I noticed her taking trips to the kitchen, yet I chose to pick my moment carefully; I donut want to be caught out. At last, (but not yeast), after a long wait, I threw caution to the wind and knocked on the victims' door, calling out her name; after which she simply opened her door, allowing me to say 'Bang' as I held my gun to her face. She would have fared better where she not loafing around.

Sincerest apologies; what a Pita it is that you were to go so soon, and that the kill would be such an anticlimax, but perhaps I shall see you again as part of the police squad.

I spotted Layzell walking with a group of his companions, laughing, at ease, completely off his guard (the fool). I saw my chance and took it, striding up towards him over the cobbles, dagger in hand, the wind in my hair, adrenaline pumping through my body as the thrill of the hunt took over. A look of recognition passed across his face, replaced swiftly by that of horror as he saw the knife and realised what was happening. There was no time for him to run, no time to draw a weapon or pray to his gods. I gave him a quick death, I might be an assassin but I am not cruel. Dagger in the heart, twist it around, just enough time to watch the life leave his eyes before anyone thought to avenge him. "Oh no, not you," he whispered as his knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, the dagger still planted in his chest. I yanked it out of his body, dripping with still his hot blood, before giving a warning look to his speechless entourage and swirling around, melting away into the morning mists. I left the corpse in the street. The police can deal with it.

I returned from a Sainsbury's expedition this morning to be informed by my neighbours that some assassins from [REDACTED] had come and thrown a teddy bear at [REDACTED], an innocent. I just want to clarify that I was not hit and am still in the game.

Blasted Cornelius Gray. Ever since his announcement paranoia had shut almost every door in the blasted city. Before it'd been easy to test his experiments. But now every Tom, Dick and blasted Harry asked questions before answering the door, and lying never sat well with the Jaksonis.

Blast. But at least, Miguel thought with a smile, there was no deadline on the progression of Science...

At approximately 2PM today I was interrupted by a mysterious visitor knocking at my door, he stated with conviction that a gentleman named 'Alan', or perhaps 'Adam', had asked him to deliver something to my abode; all that he possessed was a bicycle helmet, so I was hesitant to allow him entrance. I asked him quite bluntly if his intention was to dispatch with me, stating that I am indeed armed for my own protection. He stated that he was, perhaps a foolish move, for now I am alert and I know his face. I watched from my window as he swiftly fled, sadly I did not have sufficient time to open the window and fire upon him; next time though, I will not be so slow to take action.

So at approximately 5.45 this evening, having just followed a potential victim home from Sainsbury's, only to realise they were not my target (oops). I was putting my shopping away when I espied theboi running into my building with a coat hanger and harmful intent. Unarmed and panicked, I filled a glass with water and awaited my sorry fate. The fool stabbed me in the arm, which I was obliged to inform him did not actually count as murder. I swiftly threw my water at him (with the other arm of course), driving him back from the door but tragically not killing him as it was an unlabelled weapon. My cowardly foe thus took flight as I laughed at him out of the window. Having discovered the identity of my would-be killer I have sent a lovely message forewarning him of his imminent doom and reminding him to read the rules.

Had an encounter with imacyclepath today. Killed right arm but she is still alive. She proceeded to splash water at me using her dead arm.

I, Saq Madiq have just slain Paige Yallop by thrusting my sword into her twice as she feasted on a doughnut, she was so sad as she died but I had to show no emotion.

On the evening of the 14th of October, Zak Lakota-Baldwin was inhumed with extreme prejudice by Pseudonymous Bosch. After spotting a mutual friend, Mr Bosch took her aside and confirmed the identity of the target. He then took two steps forward, reached as if to shake hands, and stabbed him with a 20 ft long iron pike (compressed to pencil form).

This is the first.

More will follow.

Pseudonymous Bosch.

Someone from Ed's staircase let me in the building. After that, I knocked on Ed's door and he opened it without any suspicion. I immediately stabbed him in his stomach with my knife. First target neutralized.

Greetings Citizens! We, the only people worthy of the title of Us, have a grand announcement to make. You may have heard, correctly, that We deem the situation of mystery and oppression surrounding Grey's raffle both disturbing and distressing and We have, therefore, deemed it necessary to take action. On this day a certain Furston LeDolier was deposited onto the scene. A strange name to be sure, but We know of no more effective an agent. Today, Furston, Our Furston, has made his first great contribution to The Cause.

In an act of shocking and unspeakable violence, an innocent was killed this day by a rampaging Were-Bear and We could not stand by and let this come to pass without justice being done! Our agent was dispatched with all haste, to the college of [REDACTED], to track down this monster killer of innocents, there to assist the two upstanding officers of the state already present. They descended in all silence, so our sources say, upon the room of the killer, only to be met with nothing but a statement of contempt. The bear had not even graced us with their presence! However, fortune favours The Cause dear citizens! For on their way out they were met with a stranger. One officer, a fine if new looking automaton, Ivanova Koestler, asked this stranger's identity, whereupon he could not hide his guilt and ran. 3 shots were fired from our agent's gun, all missing the killer in his haste to avoid the inevitable.

Now. Some would say that at this point Furston LeDolier missed out the rest of the conflict. Some, whose loyalty to The Cause was not beyond question, might claim that in running back to cover the stairs he forfeited any meaningful role in the cornering and final dispatching of The Were-Bear and his accomplice. This is slander! These are lies and those who utter them are lower than filth! The role played by our agent was valuable, indispensable, for had the entrance not been covered who knows how many vile accomplices the murderer of innocents could have brought in. The Were-Bear has now been safely disposed of by the highly efficient enforcement. We would like to sign off Our announcement by imploring citizens to stay calm, the Grey situation will be resolved. Already much good has been done today, and it is clear that some of the droids are like minded with Us. The Cause will prevail.

Hello again, it is I, Monsieur Breadperson, your favourite cerial killer, jack of all trades and master of naan.

What wrappened tonight was a disaster for both myself and my ally in arms, Teddy Mack A.K.A The Were-Bear.

I was settling down to watch an episode of Yeastenders when I received an urgent call from my college ally that he was being attacked. I im-knead-diatly picked up my gun and SPRINTED barefooted for 2 minutes from my staircase to his, but when I got there he wasn't in.

When exiting, I discovered he had run away from '3 assailants', and so we rye-treated to his room, believing them gone (this constitutes our first two mistakes: first, he did not realise this was a police squad, second, if whey had realised this, we wouldn't have assumed they left).

About 10 minutes afterwards, I opened the door, leaven for my room when I spotted from the corner of my eye a gun aimed at my position. Believing this to belong to a regular assassin, I rye-actively shot my gun - hitting what turned out to be the chief of police - in the arm, only to be hit in the stomach by a cosh belonging to another policeman. Meanwhile, my ally, who had a far better (albeit less honourable) reaction, slammed the door behind me shut, ensuring his safety for my demise. I was toast.

No, I'm not bitter.

Afterwards, I chatted to the two delightful MURDERERS, as we waited to see what my friend would do next. He emerged 10 minutes later, throwing his attack bear at the police officer but missing, whilst forcing the CoP to retreat, having hit her in her remaining arm; thereafter a duel ensued between the officer and my ally, who both valiantly killed each other, the former dying to a sword, the latter to the same cosh that had ended me.

It is at this point that we realised, crumb to think of it, that they had come for my ally, after our misadventure at [REDACTED]; and that in fact had I not shot at them they would not have killed me. I hope you will understand that one hardly moans at the outcome of things - for the three police officers proved charming company, and their gift of baked goods was a song to my heart - when one points out that yours truly could hardly have refrained from shooting at what he believed to be assailed by assassins, not police officers and the Chief of Police herself.

Thus ends the tale of Monsieur Breadperson's assassins career. My plans of grandeur, my rise to the top, my hope to use the phrase 'You're Toast' before shooting someone in the head... It's all scone, battered to the wind.

"Is it ready?" asked Cornelius Gray, his voice slicing through the glacial air of the reconstruction halls.

"Y–yes Sir, we can bring it back online now," whimpered the technician.

"Do it."

The technician entered the commands into the console that stood at the foot of the great furnace, which began spewing forth huge gusts of scalding air.

Suddenly, the doors of the furnace swung open, revealing the inferno that lied within. The technician covered his face from the heat, but Cornelius Gray stood still, peering into the blazes, impassible.

"Sir!" shouted the technician over the screams emerging from the furnace, "Is it wise to bring it back so soon?"

"Silence," replied the businessman, "its death was merely a setback."

"But Sir, it had collaborated in the death of an innocent sir, the Senate sent in the Countess and her squad to take care of his ally and he got caught in the crossfire, Sir..."

"I had the decision... Overruled," replied Cornelius Gray, calm as ever.

"B–but Sir, the Senate..."

"WHO rules in this city, the Senate, or ME?" Snapped Gray, casting a withering stare at the technician, who slunk away in fear.

As the owner of the Corporation looked back at the furnace, he saw the outline of a figure rising from the flames.

"Ah, so you are back," said Cornelius, "Do you remember what you are?"

The technician cowered in fear as the figure rose, and rose, and he froze when it replied with a voice so inhuman that it would terrify even one of the city's emotionless automatons.

"I.... am... BreadPerson."

Cornelius Gray, however, did not cower in fear. Instead, a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, which grew into a wide rictus of pure malice.

"Excellent... Then we must put you to work. You have not yet outlived your usefulness to us."

The figure, who was still standing in the bellowing inferno, simply glanced up, and asked:

"When do I start?"

I used a pen labelled knife and hit him on the head, killing him instantaneously in [REDACTED] college courtyard.

He had a baton but did not strike any blows before the encounter ended. It was agreed between us that he had died.

Killed Lily Bao with a cannonball to the stomach.

One of Gray's lackeys opened the door to a fashionably dressed man with a hat on one arm. The target blinked blearily but accepted a proffered sheet of paper without question. The fashionably dressed man smiled, and began to meaninglessly babble about paperwork, before lifting up his hat and revealing a concealed weapon. The unfortunate target, paranoia disabled by flu, barely flinched as her viscera made a mess of the opposite wall's paintwork. The fashionable man slipped his hat on, then slowly made his way down the stairs.

On a day scarcely able to bear the burden of a beauty so weighty, I, Diogenes the Cynic, stepped with murderous intent into the colleges and staircases of Commander Christian Cuck (C Cubed on the streets) and Mr. F with heavy weapons concealed beneath my stylish yet comfortable top coat. I knocked on their doors, having gained access to their floors with the aid of my superficial charm and rakish figure. There was no stirring within, I waited, in case their anxiety to hold their breath would do my work for me. I have no evidence of this, so must concede they continue to breathe the free air. They should, however, be aware that there is not college that can conceal them from me, and before the term is out, they will shuffle off their mortal coil.

It wasn't an easy decision to become an assassin, but times are desperate. The undercover black market of contract killing outwardly condemned by Cornelius Gray is secretly sponsored by him – an extension to his corporate power. [Umpire's note: The owner of the Gray corporation would like to point out that he is in no way responsible for how people seem determined to kill each other over his cure. His critics may say that he has done nothing to stop it, but, really, what could he do?] The money is tempting. Too tempting for any undergrounder like myself.

Today was day 1. My target Stacey. Word on the street is that he has already had two attempts on his life. He would be wary – I'd have to be careful.

His room was on the third floor – another white door in a sea of white doors that house every poor worker in this city. I knocked, and heard a faint voice from within. "Hello?" I called cautiously. He opened the door a crack, and I saw one eye look through the gap.

At this point, I lost my usual calm in the face of a potential kill, and lunged forwards with my knife. He was too quick, however, and slammed the door before I could reach him. The sound of a bolt being drawn came faintly through.

Drat. I'd messed it up – let him get away. Feeling somewhat disheartened, I returned late to my lodgings – another day will bring success.

Just murdered Marius Stensrud.

I knocked on his door and asked to borrow his phone (I couldn't really think of a better excuse). Karm Wood coshed him on the head and then I stabbed him. And then I apologised for killing him.

There was a knock at the door. Pseudonymous Bosch looked up from his work. 'Who is it?', he called. Falcon Jones hurriedly replied and convinced Pseudonymous Bosch to open the door – albeit with his knife held cautiously by his side. When he opened the door, his suspicions were confirmed as he was stabbed with Falcon's own knife. He had no time to react or stab back, and Falcon walked away, leaving the victim to be found the following morning.

Clear skies for a killing, but the prey is too cowardly to show its face.

The day was quiet enough for murder. The sun swung like a flipped coin above the horizon. Even the wings of the swallows seemed sharp enough to split the sky in two. For a bird of my namesake, sorrow lingered on the mind. The air hung too heavily to lie low, begging for a little chaos to stir it up. I went in search of the first of my three unfortunate friends.

It was easy to find them, although the placid Cambridge streets are still unfamiliar to me; altogether unlike the rooftops and alleyways of Venice I once knew as well as the twists and turns carved by fortune into the palm of my own hand. Their house is as bland and faceless as all the rest, worth my attention only for the prize it holds inside. Although several windows stood open, it seemed too laughably simple to enter on such unequal footing: I decided upon more conventional means in concession to the mundane capabilities of my victim, and called at the front door. I found them not at home, but quick thinking turned the innocent confusion of their housemate to my advantage.

Having snared my trap, I have only to wait for the bait to wander straight into my fingers. Fate has a habit of taking favourites amongst those who know how to play her tune.

The fashionable man stalked through the dingy streets of St John's with a particularly purposeful stride. Infiltrating several layers of security with just his wits, Stultus closed in on his target's accommodation. However, the night was dark and full of terrors; after gleaning information from a local, Stultus spotted a flash of shadows in his peripheral vision. He held his breath with anticipation and fear as he saw the distinctive eyebrows of Cornelius Gray [Umpire's note to self: get less distinctive eyebrows] briefly materialise out of the darkness, then sink back out of sight. Evidently, Stultus was being watched by a demigod. However, he was confident that there was no danger to him from Gray - Cornelius employed Stultus and presumably wouldn't end him without definite purpose. Stultus decided to press on, and slipped through several security checkpoints until he reached the target's residence. Its opulence and en-suite bathroom dimensions were simply staggering to Stultus, who had rarely seen such riches before. Knocking on the door, Stultus summoned the target. [Umpire's note: I'm amazed they fell for "I'm with (obscure acronym) and have some papers about you unsubscribing from our mailing list"]. Unfortunately, the target's instinctive action was to crack the door open only slightly, and Stultus' shot only blew away their wrist, not their torso. The target responded by unleashing a savage, desperate barehanded attack and seizing Stultus' gun. Fortunately, it was empty. Stultus whipped off his razor-brimmed hat and sunk it into his target's back. The corpse toppled to the floor, and Stultus slunk back out of the building. Gray's shadow followed him.

So I just assassinated Commander Christian Cuck (C Cubed on the streets) in Life with a "shuriken", but apparently he's out of bounds, we're unsure how to proceed?

Today at 0950 hrs, I "killed" Karamvir Kumar with a "knife" outside of the Chemistry Department.

Sorry we missed you!

Today's date: 16/10/2017

Package: We're not sure but it has a very pointy end

Reason for non–delivery: All members of [X SUBJECT] apparently look the same

Re–delivery date: ASAP

It had been a busy weekend gathering information on my targets, but with little scheduled activity I could find then, I decided it best to wait until today to make my move.

I had a friend visiting Cambridge today, she was leader of my resistance branch elsewhere and we needed to do some face to face, untraceable meetings. So we posed as regular tourists and explored some colleges while scheming. One of these was where a target of mine lived. I had familiarised myself with the college map and so, as we took in the breath–taking sights, we made our way to where this staircase was supposed to be. However, it appears this college is not laid out as easily as the map makes it out to be. We looked around for a while but just could not find it. I will need to try another approach later.

I then bade my friend farewell and knew that this could be a good time to catch a second target. I knew where their building was located so placed myself there in good time. I waited for around 20 minutes, longer than I had expected, and then someone who could have been this person passed by. With no desire to be hunted by Grey's contraptions for killing the wrong person, I hesitated. They looked just different enough to be somebody else. But then it struck me, this was the one. I rushed to the door, but alas was too late. It closed just as I reached it, and my hacking robot was unable to gain me entry. Knowing that there was no–one just arriving to let me in, I had no option but to leave, realising that a very good opportunity had just slipped through my fingers. I will not be so careless again.

An Emile Ward may email you about this as well. If I flicked an unlabelled rubber band at them (them being my prospective assassin) before they stabbed me, am I dead or are they?

Today I, Emile Ward, set out to kill AJ. I met her and her friends in the [REDACTED] college hall and I approached one of her friends as I wasn't sure who AJ was. As she resembled AJ and I only had one unclear photograph of AJ, I asked this friend: 'are you AJ'? After AJ had heard this, her senses were activated and she knew she was in deep trouble. As a last desperate cry, she took the only item she had within reach, her rubber band to put in her hair [Umpire's note: the word they were looking for is hair tie - President Snow], and threw it at me, hoping that it would count as a kill. I, as I saw the weapon was unlabelled and had no resemblance to any real weapon, stabbed her afterwards with my knife, which I would have been able to do anyway. After this, we discussed the matter and AJ thought that her rubber band could count as a weapon. We thought it would be best to email you about this.

Sorry we missed you!

Today's date: 16/10/2017

Package: Large box, ticking ominously

Reason for non–delivery: Recipient not found, despite this being their specified location. Package offered (not at all threateningly) to person who looked slightly like desired recipient, but reaction was convincing enough to determine that they were *probably* not desired recipient.

Re–delivery date: ASAP, or on request.

I encountered Cheryl Jiang on the stairs after our lecture and stabbed her in the back with my ruler marked "Sword". We agreed that she is now dead.

I would like to report an attempt made on White Peeta Bread at approximately 15:45 today. I went to [REDACTED] but unfortunately, they were not in so the attempt was unsuccessful.

The addict strode purposefully, making his way through the oddly lit but otherwise familiar city. He had a vague recollection of hearing something about dust and a tail end of a hurricane. He could barely think straight. His mind constricted by the nagging haze of withdrawal. It took all his efforts to focus. The target had recently broadcast her location. He had to get to her first. He had to get paid. He had to get his fix. Just one slice of that delicious sashimi. There. The café. The tables from the picture he intercepted. It must be her. Adrenaline. This was it. A knife between the shoulder blades. A buzz of the credit chip. And finally the exquisite high brought on by the heavenly experience of the most beautiful food in the world.

After an intense battle today at sunset, I finally succeeded in eliminating Natalie Chapman. She was a formidable opponent but not many can withstand the stealth and might of theboi.

Having lain in wait for his first target for several mornings, Alex finally managed to dispatch his first target. He had been prepared, hiding being a forgotten laundry basket in the hallway. Realising his target had gotten up and was heading to the gyp to make himself some breakfast, he remained quiet and waited for Alexander (James Quentin) Duggan. He passed Alex on the way to the gyp. Alex stood up and listened to the microwave ping. His target appeared to be making himself porridge. Suddenly he heard another door open and close and saw himself being scrutinized. Had he been found out? Alex nodded politely and pretended he had a purpose in this corridor that was less sinister. The watcher nodded back politely, and went on his way. He heard his target and the watcher exchange pleasantries and was relieved when the watcher did not make any mention of himself. He must have pulled off appearing to be harmless. He smiled.

Exhaling quietly Alex tried to calm his excitedly beating heart. He had never killed anybody before, and was slightly apprehensive. He could hear his target leave the gyp and grew expectant. His target walked by, carrying a bowl of porridge, and seemed not be suspecting anything. He passed Alex. Alex drew his sword, stepped up behind him and, before his target could open his door, stabbed him in the back. His target turned around, with a look of surprise on his face. Alex's slow grin was the last thing he saw, before he finally succumbed to his wounds and died. The porridge had luckily stayed in its bowl, and did not go flying anywhere. Alex made his escape, before the watcher could return and raise the alarm, when finding his dead friend on the floor.

Hatman killed a target this morning, after spending sections of the last 3 days trying to track him down. Hatman's water pistol was effective against the target's defensive strike, which Hatman thought was very scary. Hatman dodged around the target's companion, and shot the target in the chest. Hatman would like to note that the companion was not harmed during the encounter - both the target and Hatman tried frantically to kill each other without damaging the companion.

I had made my way to Cornelius Gray's academy of technology on JJ Thompson Avenue for a lecture on handling of information in an automated system, a precursor to understanding the functionality of the 'Twitch' police force's memory handling mechanisms, as I entered the department I saw my target lurking outside the hall, I took swift action, lunging forth with my trusty knife - I managed to slash his arm, rendering it useless, however, he was not dead, at this moment he knew his life was in danger and grasped for his sword with his other hand. At this moment I fired off a slug round from my trusty pistol but it ricocheted off of his sword. He managed to remove my left arm with his sword but I have now stemmed the bleeding and have began constructing a bionic replacement at the academy. By the point my arm lay oozing blood at my side, I knew my attempt was ill-fated and poorly planned so I fled with haste, however, another assassin had seen me bearing and made chase holding a bullet in his hand, thankfully due to my excellent dexterity, I managed to dodge the attack by leaning backwards while also running backwards and narrowly dodging the crowd. Finally, the attacker conceded and returned to his companions. I fled away upstairs and took refuge in my lecture.

After my lecture, I looked over one of the balconies of the majestic academy building to see my target once again sitting and enjoying a brief snack, his eyes met mine, yet I knew that I was too weak to fight again so fled away to work on my replacement arm. The arm is now finished and as good as new, I can only hope that next time I will not so clumsily fail to eliminate what was arguably an easy target.

I will find you, ol' Reginald has never failed to eliminate a target and he never will.

Sleep well tonight, for tomorrow I will find you, and I will kill you.

Hello citizens and subjects!
Tonight, I infiltrated [REDACTED] College in order to test my new lightflail - which is certainly NOT a bodged homemade lightsabre - on either of two victims, or at least to discover where to find them. Although Falcon Jones's lair was not included on the public map of the complex - presumably a deliberate 'oversight' - I still found my way to his door. Impatiently, I knocked. Foolishly, he opened. Unaccustomed to my weapon (it not being the conventional lightsabre), and not having killed for at least a week, my swing was slow, and Falcon Jones lunged with a blood-covered dagger. The lunge, however, was a little too quick, and (barely) missed my arm and torso. But the flail's path stayed true. Falcon Jones's head is available for purchase as a two-piece set.

Greetings, citizens and subjects!

Generally, using an effective lock is enough to keep you alive - at least for a few more hours. It was certainly more effective for Geoffrey Pritchard than Falcon Jones found removing all trace of one's lair from the map to be. I want Geoffrey Pritchard to know that I know about the 'secret' tunnel, at the obscure end of which he hides.

[Umpire's note: Wait, what secret tunnel? Gray would like it noted that keeping 'secrets' that he is unaware of is treason... treason is punishable by death, assuming he ever finds out, which he will, because he is omniscient. Always remember that Cornelius Gray is your friend and... ok, I'll stop now.]

After a long and weary journey to [REDACTED], I camped on the ground floor of my target's staircase as she coward away in her room. After a long 20 minutes of waiting she finally came out. Foolishly she tried to run, but there is no hope when my sword thirsts for blood . When I inevitably caught her she was stabbed multiple times and left her for dead.

I visited The Clockwork Orange's accommodation block at around 17:00, but was unable to get inside. A shot was fired by The Clockwork Orange from a first floor window. Nobody was injured or killed. I made a hasty retreat.

Greetings Citizens! We bring you news today. News of courage, adversity, victory! Great and wonderous news, but also... also We bring news of sadness, of treachery, and of shameful hostility to The Cause. We heard news of two potential causes of adversity. Not oppressors but then, We do not wait for our enemies to come to us, when We perceive a threat We must act. And So act We did.

Our Furston was dispatched and brought swift and sure retribution to Our first adversary. The fool had no concept of proper security - all the more a sign of his lack of worth to Us, his door swinging wide open. The confidence, in the wake of Gray's announcement and paranoia... Good Citizens, We can surely only see this as arrogance! As an affront! He thought himself invincible. Two shots proved him wrong. "Good evening" were the last words he ever heard and now we trust the droids will do a tidy job of cleaning up the (considerable) mess.

We then dispatched our agent on to our second target. Oh, good citizens. For shame, they were a crafty one to have set up base in such hostile, ignorant territory! The locals treated Our agent with indifference. Unforgivable already for one so clearly Righteous. If this weren't bad enough, We knew the target had some experience being hunted, and so attempted to enlist the locals to pull them out of hiding. Our Furston, being brave and skilled, realising such paranoia could never be overcome by base means. However, none were forthcoming. So We implored patience. And so he waited... But to no avail. The cry was heard "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" And thus Our bold agent had to flee from hostile territory, knowing his presence to be revealed.

BUT. Dear Citizens, fear not. For We know a name and We know a place. It would not do to reveal such delicate information to potential spies and informants (for they lurk, dear citizens, around every corner). But to Our target We have only this to say.

We will come.

The addict had diligently researched his next target and planned a careful hit for the following day. But the high that he was riding was making him feel unstoppable. He just couldn't wait that long. Before he knew it, he was at the lion's den. The risk weighing on his mind. He sneaks past the first checkpoint. He should revert to his proper plan. The second checkpoint is now behind him. He must turn back before it is too late. His target's door. Last chance to leave. He mumbles an excuse. The door opens. He pulls the trigger. He registers the buzz of his credit chip.

Pennywise of [REDACTED] killed with knife initially concealed by swim hat. Pretended to be returning it to 'friend' from water polo who had sent me wrong address.

[Umpire's note: Well, I haven't heard that one before.]

Today The Shadow Surfer and I visited our mutual friend in his home on the outskirts of this fine city. We stealthily approached the building he resided in and passed through the outer door without significant difficulty, locating his abode was fairly easy. We stood, pistols primed, at the left–hand side of his door. I leaned over to knock: "tap–tap–tap–tap–tap... tap–tap..." There was no response, yet we could see that the lights were on. This unnerved us, then my partner in crime leaned over to knock himself, "tap–tap", nothing still, yet his lights remained on. He knew we were there and we knew he was there, it was a stalemate, there was nothing to do. It is wise for him to be cautious; especially after our little skirmish earlier today.

Do not fear good sir, we will take you out soon enough! I am a patient man, old age does that to you.

Your friendly pensioner assassin,

Reginald

Around 10pm yesterday AJ arrived into the reception dressed into her most fancy apparel. We had been working in the same rebel group a few months ago, but since then, our pathways had drifted apart. I had been charged with the protection of one of the highest members of the governing body. AJ got involved in the so called 'Planetary Freedom Movement' (PFM), which tried to undermine the last remnants of democracy we had in the governing body. AJ, my ex–partner, had been indoctrinated, and now thought of the governing body as fully corrupt.

Soon after she entered the reception, her conduct was clearly suspect, and I could see her following the every move of my government official. This was too much, his security was at risk. I promptly ran upstairs and grabbed a knife that I hid in my clothes. Coming back to the reception, I was reassured to see that AJ had not moved. I approached her, and her eyes switched to me, and a smile lit her face as she recognized her ancient partner. The smile became an expression of astonishment as I took my knife out and transpierced her head just below the right eye. She was simply able to utter her last word, "Why?", as the light faded from her eyes.

I can confirm the kill of Mack-Attack this morning after sourcing a key to her corridor from an anonymous accomplice and then waiting outside for fifteen minutes, then knocking, waking her up (sorry Chloe) and shooting her in the head.

I, Mr. Weenie, killed Judith Offenberg in her room in Pembroke at 13:15 using a nerf gun. I snuck in and was able to perform the assassination with no resistance.

I just had an encounter with Alcibiades. I opened his door, quickly shut it and went around the corner. He came out, we caught a glimpse of each other then he slammed the door and locked it. Next time I will be successful

Scientific report no. 0733191, 19 Oct 2017

Time: 12:01PM, 19 Oct 2017

Author: research assistant 0023, The Grey Matter corporation (Grey Corporation subsidiary)

Event: An anomalous distortion in spacetime appeared at 12:01PM in the antechamber of the main auditorium of the Grey Matter building. It is hypothesised that its close location to advanced technological equipment created a macroscale superposition, effects of which could be experienced until it spontaneously disappeared at 13:20PM. Left behind was only a corpse of LaTeX Forest. See attached report form 4 (termination of employment) for further details. Cause of this event was dubbed "The Shrike", its nature and whether it will reoccur unknown at present time.

Speculated cause: Snow

Recommended course of action: Increase surveillance of National Research Institute (aka SNOW research facilities)

Priority: Medium

Report form 4 (termination of employment)

Employee: LaTeX Forest

Name prior to employment: Leo Zlotnikov

Warp status: sick

Cause of death: unknown ("The Shrike")

Autopsy: perfectly triangular hole in the subject's chest, about 10cm wide, is stipulated to be the primary cause of death

State of the body: automation possible

My target was unaware of his peril as I inconspicuously hung around the inside of Cornelius Gray's Academy of Technology. As he stood relaxedly outside the lecture hall, I spied my chance. I rushed forwards before he could move and plunged my knife between his ribs, bringing forth a spring of blood. He turned to face me, and in that moment I realized what I should have noticed. The shuffle of his walk. The blank, empty look of his face. Someone else had got there first. The face that looked back at me was one of a reanimated corpse. He was unaffected by the wound and reached for his weapon, but I was fortunate - the area was populated and I managed to slip away unscathed...

Dear Umpire,

Now, I am quite upset. I have been a dedicated mailman for a long time now, and I will admit that on occasion I tend to be a little careless with the packages, and the one incident with that container of anthrax was terribly inconvenient for all involved, but with God as my witness, I am efficient. And after four days of consistent attempts to find the owner of this gently ticking item, said owner still insists on remaining elusive.

From my long experience in the mailing industry, I have posited three possible explanations for this:

[1] Recipient is not attending their specified commitments, in which case they may have bigger issues than feeling bereft of their parcel.

[2] All members of [X SUBJECT] look the [UNPROFESSIONAL EXPLETIVE] same.

[3] Recipient is Jaqen H'ghar.

If it is [1] or [3] I would request further assistance.

Yours sincerely,

The Postman Who, While Innocuous, Is Also Slightly Baned

H-Hatman killed ag-again.

Hatman saw a hatless man and so gave him the hat Hatman had. Hatman suddenly had a flash of Cornelius - gore - razors - wealth - and looked up, recovering with the instincts of a broken killer. A man was holding Hatman's hat! Hatman flew into a bloody rage. Eyes bulging, expression distorting, spittle flying, Hatman pumped shots into the luckless soul. It was his hat! Hatman scooped up his hat and wandered erratically off.

Hatman h-hopes he wi-wi-will not kill again. B-but Hatman knows he shall.

I infiltrated my target's barracks by timing my entrance through the locked door. I had some trouble finding his personal abode but a helpful passerby pointed it out for me. I knocked and made up a lame story about having retrieved the target's study materials. This sounded even more lame to my target, who ordered me to leave the books on the floor and leave. I complied and was about to leave when another helpful passerby offered me a drink. I stayed longer, waiting for my target to unlock his door. I was lucky, the target had a friend coming over for a visit, so I waited until they disappeared into the room and pounced before the door closed. Rushing through the gap I acquired the target and shot him in the chest.

At exactly 8pm tonight, Kitty Shade paid Commander Christian Cuck (C Cubed on the streets) another visit, after almost killing him in the smoky den of scum and villainy that is Sunday Life (before he was miraculously revived by umpires).

This time, however, she met his shotgun, and a nasty end, instead.

RIP Kitty Shade, 2017 - 2017

I went to a [REDACTED] lecture at 12:00, during which I located Ezio Ibn La'Ahad. I followed him out of the lecture theatre and immediately killed him with a pen labelled as knife to the torso.

It had been a while since I last attempted, and my habit of sleeping through my planned kill attempts had seen three/four go down the drain. Perhaps the GrayCorp dreamcatcher I had been given was really poisoning me with sleeping gas to make the pool of incompetents who would be victims of Gray's mass testing of the Twitch program bigger.

This time however, I was meeting some friends for lunch right by my target's accommodation.

I had brought some treats with me to lure my target from their room, and we accessed it with little difficultly. My friends knocked on their door to offer the lure, and out they came. I conveniently emerged from behind a nearby indentation in the wall and thrust a laser sword into them, at which point they died. Nice to have a kill under my belt now.

The nastily physical physical natsci has struck.

After attending a [REDACTED] lecture he discovered how to turn a pen into a knife, and finished off the unsuspecting Hugo Blondel with a shot the head.

Alexander Duggan had made his way across the city this afternoon. His accomplice Fitz had acquired some new information that he regarded as vital. Alex was glad he had such a faithful friend in Fitz, though he usually tried to keep his profession apart from his other life. So, this afternoon Alex decided to do some old fashioned reconnaissance to add to Fitz's information, stalking his various targets and finding out about the layout of their abodes.

It was easy to find the accommodation block of his first target, and apparently, she was aware that she was being hunted, as she had a sign outside her room. Alex had to smile, but realizing his target was not at home, he carried on with his investigation. His second target was more difficult to find. His flat was at the very back of the grounds, but he did find new information: it appeared that his target shared a flat. Alex now needed to think about whether he wanted this flatmate to be out, in order to remain anonymous, or whether the flatmate would be collateral. But this target too was out. Making his way to his third target, he received an email from his employer. His first target had already been killed. Alex was annoyed that his research had been done in vain! However, his target had been replaced, so not quite everything was lost. He forwarded the details of his new target to his accomplice, hoping that the genius Fitz could shed some more light on his new target, perhaps a social security number, banking details, or family members. He had faith in Fitz. He was after all the hacking wizard.

Finding out about his third target was even worse: not only was he out, but his accommodation seemed inaccessible! He would have to ask Fitz to try and find a way around that. He was usually good at anything electronic, as the doorlocks appeared to be. He normally tried to keep his friend out of the danger zone, but needs must and all that.

Not quite dejected, but not pleased either, Alex made his way home. He received a call, informing him that target number two had RSVPed to a local sporting event during the weekend. He might look into that and do a proper stake out - though bystanders had to be brought into consideration. He would need to sleep on this...

Today I went to PotatOS's flat to kill her. Conveniently, someone else was there to kill someone else. First, we went to that other person and activated by this sound, PotatOS came to check us out. Thinking she wasn't one of the targets, she let us close to her and that's when I stabbed her in the stomach and ended her time.

Today J. Ratty set out to kill me. She knocked on my door, hoping i would be ignorant enough to just open the door. I opened the door, but I kept the latch on it. Knowing she was exposed, she fled into our shower and locked herself in for a solid 8 minutes. I awaited her, and after she had really slowly the door, I shot her with my prototype banana gun. Threat eliminated.

Arthur Dent woke up, on what should be a perfectly normal Friday, with the most peculiar urge. He felt he wanted, no, needed to go to [REDACTED], an area of Cambridge in which he'd never before had any business. How odd. He brushed it away as some vestige of his drunken stupor the night before and tried to push it out of his mind. Breakfast came and went, murder and bagel. MACKREL. Mackerel and bagel. He set about working on his essay, a piece on the main stalking points of the French revolution. Stalking points? No, talking points. What on earth has gotten into me, He wondered. Something briefly crossed his mind about the recent allegations of Cornelius Gray using mind control against the general population, but the thought suddenly became unbearably uncomfortable to hold in his head. The rest of the day came and went, as Arthur struggled with increasingly troublesome mental slips.

That evening, unable to bear it, Arthur decided to try and find some respite by visiting his friend Ford. Ford, by some coincidence was a member of [REDACTED], and that brought Arthur feelings of great comfort and relief. When Ford offered to buy Arthur dinner, he gladly accepted, although he found himself somewhat fervently scanning the room around him as he ate. Inexplicably disappointed by the uneventful nature of the meal, he asked Ford to give him a tour of the accommodation. It was in the midst of this building that he suddenly stopped in front of one particular room, a number which Arthur had never realised held such incredible significance to him before. He reached into his bag, somehow perfectly calm and reassured to find a miniature blaster already loaded with a single shot canister. He knocked on the door, shouting "Hey it's Ben! Sam said you might have my bowl", the words coming from nowhere. He waited a tense 30 seconds, and then saw the confused face of a person he had never before met. Without thinking, he pulled out his blaster and fired his one shot into their abdomen, their valiant dive behind the door only accomplishing the obliteration of their kidney instead of their navel. Arthur, his head now clear, looked down at his hands, stunned in horror at what he had done, and then ran in terror into the night.

//GRAY CORP MENTAL CORRECTION REPORT #8717.b//

Subject 34 experienced terminal trauma to the anterior upper torso this evening. It is as of yet unknown what weapon caused this damage, as the weapon used was removed from the building by its bearer. SecuriCam footage shows the following:

Subject 34 exited his cell for a period of physical corrective treatment at around 19:00. At 19:20, a figure entered his cell. This individual was partially concealed behind the ceramo-metallic door to Subject 34's cell, but blur-removal analysis indicates a high probability that this was Subject 19. 19 proceeded to wait behind the door for around one hour. Facial algorithms suggest considerable insanity in this subject - treatment had evidently not been progressing satisfactorily. At 20:50, Subject 34 re-entered his cell, and was rapidly destroyed by Subject 19 with what seemed to be extreme prejudice. This Psycho-correction officer would like to note that security staff viewing this footage became subject to base animal instincts, and a cleaning crew was required after various bodily fluids were spilled from both orifices. Subject 19 was seen exiting the cell, and did not appear on any other SecuriCam footage.

Audio reconstruction from Subject 34's cell provides little information. Animal noises, 'Gray,' and references to popular styles of clothing used to decorate the cranium are assessed to be a result of Subject 19's current state.

-::Subject 19 profile::- Male, original name unknown, birth date unknown, mental status unknown.

It is not known where Subject 19 procured his unknown make of energy pistol.

It is not known where Subject 19 currently is.

//REPORT ENDS//