The Assassins' Guild - Week 2 News

After tracking down my prey for the past week, I have finally decided to pounce today, where I stabbed him, The Fundamental Group after a quiet Saturday morning lecture.

Omar Patel set out with their accomplice, Twitch force member Anastasia Chibulkova, ready to find Patel's targets. A simple wander took the two right up the door of DoodleBobBuffPants's homestead-a knock proved unsuccessful. Just as the mission was in the process of being abandoned, who else but an unsuspecting DoodleBobBuffPants walked past them-a quick tap to the shoulder and a sharp shot to the chest with Patel's blaster saw the target eliminated. 10:20. The next target, Jackie Chan's homestead was situated not far from the previous one. Some simple analysis, and fairly extensive waiting periods (to tail in) led them right to the door. Chilbukova fabricated an excuse for knocking, and Jackie Chan opened the door, only to fall second victim to Patel's blaster. 11:05. The third target was a short hypercycle away. Another tail in led them to the door of Miss Scarlet. The accomplice and the assassin were almost caught by a suspicious innocent and were close to a retreat. Yet at that moment, another accomplice, a historic friend of Omar Patel, materialised. This new accomplice quickly adopted the role Chilbukova had previously taken on, to get a dubious Miss Scarlet to open the door, and quickly receive Patel's blaster's third shot of the day. 11:40. Patel and Chilbukova rewarded themselves with fudge. It was good. It was free.

[null] Map :

[null] POST Map:

– ::chocolate/Text/0 => 9

– submit => Add

– event => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Event(/null/)

– assassin => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Assassin(/null/)

– ::tuttifrutti/MODULE_ENABLED

[null] Map :

– target_graph_generation => True

– targeting_k_regularity => success

– target_distribution => complete

[null] POST Map

[null] Map :

– submit => in_progress

– attempt => error_TARGET_INACCESSIBLE

– locked_door_error?

– solution_attempt1: complaintoumpire

– response => underwhelming

– solution_attempt2: return_later

– response => critical_failure_to_raise_fatal_exception

[null] Map :

[null] POST Map

[null] Map :

– college => Emmanuel

– betrayal_attempted => [redacted]

[null] POST Map

[null] Map :

– submit => Add

– player => __::org.ucam.srcf.assassins.Player(/null/)

I killed Spoons outside the cockcroft lecture theatre by stabbing her in the back with a ruler while she was unlocking her bike.

Today I set out to kill Draco Mouthboy, in his own flat. I came into his staircase and I first checked the names of his neighbours. By looking up their names on facebook, I knew the first name of one of his neighbours. Information that was vital for my kill. I knocked on his door and Draco Mouthboy asked who's there. I asked if he could help me, because I was looking for [REDACTED] (one of the names I'd just retrieved). Calmed down by hearing a familiar name, Draco Mouthboy opened the door and I immediately stabbed him in his stomach. Another target down.

Package delivered at approximately 3:30pm.
If you had any issues with your Royal Mail experience today, please contact our service department: assassins-umpire@srcf.ucam.org

[Umpire's note: We would like to assure all our customers of Gray Corp. that our postal service is totally and utterly safe and that really, you have no other choice.]

As I walked towards the location of my target I noticed that none of the doors had been locked. The door to their room was even wide open, inviting me inside. This unnerved me, and I feared that I was walking into a trap set by a master assassin. Fortunately (for me, unfortunately for my target) this was not the case.
My target saw me as I entered their room, but did not realise why I was there until I drew my weapon. Before they could reach for their knife I stabbed them with my sword.

[Umpire's note: If a stranger enters your room, it's safe to assume they're with the guild.]

The Flare (known to some as 'warp sickness') has spread quickly, and the machinations of WICKED make our world a dangerous place. Not content with subjecting us youths to life–threatening tests and trials, they have now forced us to turn against each other for a chance to acquire their newly–announced 'cure'. Those who are too kind and selfless will be destroyed. And so it is with a great reluctance that I have hunted down, and shot, two of my assigned targets.

Sebastian Melmoth and Dr. Song made a crucial error. They had joined an insufficiently–dystopian science–fiction society, but that wasn't their error. Their error was that they had signed their names publically on the attendence list for tonight's gathering of the society. So finding them was easy.
The difficult part was the waiting. The earliest time at which their meeting could finish was 21:40, but their plotting and scheming continued for over an hour longer. It also emerged that Dr. Song had lied about her attendence (why would anyone publically admit to attending such a gathering then not actually attend?). But she gracefully returned to her accomodation at about the expected time anyway.

– Teresa

I visited the home of my latest target with accomplices, but alas all I could see was a not very clothed gentleman in one of the windows – my target was nowhere to be seen.

I killed my target Mr. Pizza in his room at Selwyn. I killed him with one of theboi's juggling balls labelled cannonball.

Out-of-character note - I would like to make public out of respect to my opponent that this was a contested and difficult kill and I in some ways got quite lucky, this seems only fair given the circumstances.

Greetings Citizens! Today We bring you news of Our greatest victory yet. Today, We gain revenge against those who eluded Us. Today We strike back at those who disregarded the will of The Cause. Today, friends, is a day of triumph!

Yet it was hard earned triumph. We received information from an anonymous source that Our target would be *running* today. Running in this age of teleporters and hypercycles! No matter, despite their sentimentality and love for inefficient modes of transport We knew our target to be both dangerous and, as you well know citizens (because you *do* watch these reports, don't you?) skilled in the ways of treachery.

It is as We promised them. We had a name and We had a place and now, now We had a time. We would be fools not to capitalise. Our agent slipped the checkpoints and was there, on the border of Our target's meagre lodgings early. Too early. The patience and the dedication shown by Our agent, Our Furston as he waited cannot be overstated. Nevertheless, Our informant - who shall be handsomely rewarded - proved good. As if drawn to their death by their own commitments, as if it were fated dear citizens! Our target arrived.

Oh but they were fast. The saw. They put to use that passion for outmoded transport and proceeded to "run". Our agent followed but even the very ground proved of this horrific place proved to conspire against him. He fell and it was here that Our target proved that they were truly meant to die. Here they made their final mistake. Perhaps, who knows, They could have gotten away had they simply ran. Doubtful though, on this occasion maybe but one cannot hide from The Cause. They turned. They fired. But death did not come to Our agent! (we would like to note that post - analysis showed the laser gun to be merely a piece of gelatinous fruit - apparently Our target was an adept in the powerful but in this case fatally unreliable art of "psychosomatic shooting".)

Thinking their assassin dead, Our target moved forward and Furston, seeing their chance, leapt up and finally, with nought but a steel blade no less, put an end to the madness. We would like to offer Our respect to Our target. The Cause and its advocates are not heartless. A fight was given and this kill was bitter work. Nonetheless, justice has been done. You may sleep easy now, citizens.

*indistinct crackling, something buzzes, something cracks, briefly the triumphant music of the propaganda broadcast fades to nothingness and a small voice can be heard. .."don't want to do th.." ..."ny more"... ..."lp me"... The music fades back in and the broadcast ends*

This morning a fellow assassin Serene Symphony and I (Ratagan) took out our target Zdravkov Zahariev at his accommodation in [REDACTED] College. He let us into the building when we buzzed and although he expected that something was wrong he put up no resistance and was killed with a "bang" when he opened the door.

Today, an accomplice and I sneaked into [REDACTED] where we managed to get to Anastasia Price's room.

A quick knock on the door was sufficient to bring here exactly where we needed her to be.

BOOM, my nerf gun was fired and the shot was perfect :)

One down many to go...

Bridget Spike and I went to my target's (The Bandit's) room but didn't find him in at around 9 pm tonight.

Today around 9pm I (Bridget Spike) and fellow assassin (Friedrich Van Caspar) went to [REDACTED] to kill our targets. I knocked on my target Xerxes Rockatansky's door several times but upon receiving no answer we left.

For reasons unknown to me, WICKED decided that my next target should be the neighbour of my latest victim. And so it is that am revisiting these familiar halls.

My plan here is simple but effective – wait outside my Lucas's room until he emerges to use the communal facilities. It is perhaps unfortunate for him that some illness was forcing him to leave his chambers frequently throughout the evening. His death was short but simple, near–identical to that of his neighbour, which he had overheard barely 24 hours earlier.

One day I hope to discover more about WICKED's motives. I believe they are still running experiments on us. I know they are good. I do not know how I know this. I do not know a lot of things.

I know I must survive to discover more.

–Teresa

Alexander found his patience to have been well rewarded. Having dressed as a poor student, he had grabbed a local newspaper and sat on a bench that had a good view on A. A. Ron Rodgers's front door. Not sure whether A. A. Ron Rodgers was in, Alex settled in to wait, reading about the economics and politics. He was content, knowing that he had his sword as well as various knives stashed away and hidden on his person. He preferred to keep his kills quiet, so guns were not an option. Suddenly, his target emerged - or at least he hoped so. His assistant Fitz had found a photo, but Alex was not very good at identifying individuals, and the photo appeared to be slightly out of date. Alex's heart started to pound, adrenalin coursing through his system. Innocent bystanders were about. Furthermore, his target seemed to be aware that he was hunted - or at the very least suspicious. Alex needed to remain sneaky.

So, whilst A. A. Ron Rodgers was entering an archway, Alex packed up his newspaper and covertly followed A. A. Ron Rodgers. He kept his footsteps light, and stayed back slightly. A. A. Ron Rodgers passed some figures of authority, and Alex tried to stay back even further, without causing suspicion, or attracting the notice of anyone. But suddenly an opportunity presented itself. Nobody was around. Alex politely inquired, "Excuse me", and his target turned. Proud of his professionalism, he inquired, "Are you A. A. Ron Rodgers", and hearing the affirmative from his target, who had turned around, he pulled his stiletto that had been hidden inside his sleeve, and stabbed A. A. Ron Rodgers into the chest. With no witnesses around, Alex quickly made his escape, leaving the body behind. Noting the time for his employer, he made his way to stalk his next target. He was one step closer to finishing his task.

Albireo did not like the concept of the assassin's trade. He was a construction worker by day, but that was earning less and less as Gray Corp sliced his pay–check. This was his first contract, it was simple – kill a low–ranking manager in The Corporation with an old slug–gun (a six–shot revolver, to be precise) – well paid and a strike against the enemy. Drizzle floated through the air as he walked out to residential blocks favoured by Gray's employees. To provide a suitable ruse to gain entrance, he pulled a half–cold box of take–away from his bag, appearing to be on his way to socialise. Fortunately, there were many people flowing in and out of this complex, so it was not hard to sneak through the card–locked doors. Safely inside the first layer of security, Albireo looked for the nearest block. He squinted at the room listings for the name he had been given, as luck would have it, it was there. At that moment, another employee asked Albireo if he was visiting a friend in the block, which he answered in the affirmative. With that, Albireo was through another layer of security. At the top of the stairs, another locked door, fortunately, another friendly employee buzzed him through.

This was it. Albireo gave a firm knock on the victim's door. Before he could fumble out an excuse, the door was opened. This threw him off guard, he briefly dug about in his bag, trying to decide between his familiar, trust–worthy plasma cutter and the crude, antiquated weapon he had been given for this job. He decided to follow this order to the letter. Click. The hammer was pulled into place. With a deafening crack, the gun went off and the acrid smell of cordite filled the air. The silver projectile flew straight and true, through the torso of the unsuspecting victim. It was not a clean kill, but it was effective. The job was done.

I have attempted yet again to visit Jacques Descole around 5.42 pm today but could not access the door. Soon after around 6pm I tried to pay a visit to Friedrich Van Caspar but couldn't get past yet another locked door. I guess it's a good thing the security systems are working...

Approaching the gates of [REDACTED], the clock struck 7 and the drizzle of rain and the dark skies foreshadowed the death to come.

The Queenslayer, armed with her most recently forged knife: the 'Navy Nerve–breaker' and her most trusted sidekick Sarandei, approached the location of her assigned target,. Stepping into his Hall, she noted a presence and absence board, and saw he was marked absence yet took this time to observe his hallway and the door to his room that he would soon be occupying. After a mutual look of approval, Sarandei knocked three times on the door, to which silence prevailed. A girl down the hall peeked her head out and asked:

"Hey, who are you looking for?" Confidently, the Queenslayer answered her targets name to which the girl raised an eyebrow: "He should be in. That is his room after all."

The Queenslayer nodded her head and turned to Sarandei, "We can come back tomorrow."
The two women left the Hall of residence and stood outside the Court to glance at it once more before a man, carrying a box walked past her with a friend. Sarandei quickly turned to the Queenslayer:
"Isn't that him?" Sarandei asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"Are you sure?" She wondered, glancing at the man who began walking to the Hall of residence her target was supposed to live in.

"I'm certain," Sarandei said with conviction. The Queenslayer pulled out her phone and looked up the photo of her target before looking at the man walking away and turned to Sarandei.
"Let's get him."

Running after him, the two women dashed across the Court and into the Hall, before slowing down as they approached his door. Stood on either side of the door, Sarandei waited for the signal. Silently, the Queenslayer pulled out her knife: 'The Navy Nerve–breaker' and held it behind her back before knocking gently on the door.

After ten seconds, the door precariously opened, and armed with a small toy gun, The Gibbering Man held it out to Sarandei, ready to shoot her, before the Queenslayer graciously stepped out and with the accuracy and determination of a fencer, stabbed him in the chest.

Shocked, he froze, noticing the woman hidden behind him that had just got her attack before he sighed and held the gun down.

The Queenslayer smiled at Sarandei before turning back to him in apology.

"When you play the game of assassins, you win or you die. And you just died."
Sarandei and the Queenslayer walked out of [REDACTED], ready for their next victim.

Once again, I had overslept my planned attempt on someone's life this morning. It appears that something is going on with my dreamcatcher but it is now fixed to my wall and has no controls, so I shall be forced to relocate my bed elsewhere in the future.

Annoyed that I had been so inactive this term, a flash of inspiration hit me as I walked through the city centre after some shopping this evening. One of my targets, Diamond Dog, goes to [REDACTED COLLEGE], and all of the members of this college subsist on knowledge of [REDACTED SUBJECT] instead of food, or so I have been told. They were given an experimental drink which replaced their hunger for food with a hunger for knowledge, in a social experiment to see if this would improve the rate of scientific advancement. So far results are pending but I am not hopeful.

So, I waited in plenty of time in an area that this target could have to pass to reach this event, and stayed until after the start time. They were not running late, indeed, they were not showing up. Perhaps any knowledge will do, not just knowledge of this subject, and their hunger had been satisfied for the day.

Or perhaps, they were doing exactly what I was doing: skipping a society event to hunt.

So I went hunting for the first time last night along with my accomplice (Natalie Chapman – formerly imacyclepath) and so we found The Fundamental Group's room in [REDACTED] and knocked on the door with a prepared story about maths supervision work. However, her roommate answered as she wasn't in but he did tell us she would be back around 11. And so, 2 disaronno and cokes later we returned to her staircase intent on catching her on her way back in. Alas, upon seeing us waiting around near the staircase entrance, a great fear did ignite in the eyes of dear [TARGET] and I, being too cautious, could not catch her before she reached the sanctuary of her room. We decided that she most probably knew we were there for her (or maybe she's just good at stairs) so to knock on the door again would have been a fruitless risk.

It is my most humble pleasure to inform you that at 10:51 am this morning, Friso De Graaf, a man of mediocre yet intriguing looks, was struck down by a lethal, deadly, ruler–shaped knife which did make a precise yet mortally wounding incision, burying itself deep within his chest. As his dying words escaped his lips, his cold–hearted killer, TheLegend27, laughed with murderous glee. It was all Friso could do to mutter weakly, "Ah, I've been killed. Good job, man." Friso will live on in the hearts of many, but not really, because he's dead.

With the assistance of a friend who unlocked a door for me, I was granted access to the building. Alas, when I knocked on the door of Michael's room I received no answer. Fortunately, upon turning back I noticed the target walking towards me. After a mild struggle, my "knife" made fatal contact on his torso.

I, Mr. Razor, attempted to find and kill Jul Tamer today at his room in [REDACTED]. Having researched the accommodation online and prepared a cover story as to why he should open his door to me (in accordance with the rule book), I made my way to his room but discovered he was not present. I waited but he did not present himself, and so, checking that the coast was clear, I retreated, having left a note to let him know I was sorry I missed him.

Alexander was passing by his newest target's flat, trying to find out something about the layout of the place. When entering the hallway, he saw two individuals in that hallway. Passing the door, they were standing in front of, he realised the door belonged to his target. He asked him to identify himself, trying to upkeep his professionalism by not killing innocents. His target shut the door in his face; he was quite relieved, as he was not adequately armed anyway.

Alexander passed by the door, troubled that his target now knew his face. He planned to exit the gated community. Apparently, he had not chosen the quickest way, for in the archway, his target stood, armed. He planned a quick retreat. They ended in a temporary stand–off, until bystanders got impeded. They decided to call it quits for the day. Alex was quite relieved by this outcome. He had not come out as the victor of this skirmish, but he was still alive. He sighed.

1. Attempt on ThomasTheSkankEngine. I knocked on her door, and wedged my foot in it, waiting for my accomplice to ambush from behind. When it was opened, I spoke to her best friend for 30 seconds, and asked her whereabouts. Upon learning she was not in the room, I left.

2. Successful kill on TheLegend27 (Ross Sullivan). I coaxed him out of his room by asking for some help with setting up college print services on my laptop (we are somewhat familiar). When he opened the door he ran for cover across his room. My accomplice fired at him, but his gun jammed. There was a confusion, wherein Ross ran to the bathroom and locked himself in. Torn, I told my accomplice to wait on Ross' balcony, while I persuaded Ross to leave the bathroom. In this, I was successful (I placed a £5 note under the door, promising he had left). Ross came out and almost believed me, but my accomplice jumped out of the balcony and killed him swiftly.

The empty man approaches a sinister building. He walks strangely, a vacant stare and a slight stiffness. The drugs in his head working to compel him towards a cause he does not understand. He does not believe in it. He has no beliefs. On he walks. An Eloquent Man greets him and he nods assent. The information flows into his brain and they go to business.

Two targets. Names and faces, lives. One is not present. The voices force the man to withdraw. The other is pulled out by the Eloquent Man. The empty man sees and the bloodlust takes over. The voices in his head overcome him.

Inside, he begs for it to end as they scream at him to KILL! KILL KILL KILLKILLIILKILLKILL! The target throws a knife, the empty man ducks and jerkily fires back with his handgun. A click s the gun jams. a moment of terror, a scream and the target is gone. Hidden, locked away.

But the voices remain. The empty man must remain. They will not let him leave. The Eloquent Man beckons to the balcony and so the empty man knowing only obedience hides. Slowly the Eloquent Man coaxes the target out – the empty man uses up the small, helpless part of him that is still his own to envy those who's wills allow them to spin such tales.

The target emerges and the empty man – the chemicals in his brain burning him up from the inside – overcome with a helpless craving to carve and to slash and to kill runs out and obliterates the target utterly with a laser sword. Whimpering softly to himself. The empty man lopes dejectedly away.

He is free again, for now.

The Lab's Defense Network was almost complete. Miguel smiled, knowing that nobody would be able to make it into his inner sanctum without first being sent to their doom.

A crashing next door made Miguel grimace; the lab monkeys were getting restless. Hurridly, he put down his screwdriver and rushed into their holding pen. 'Katie' and The Scout were rapping against the walls, whilst The Baroness was digging through her bedding. The Scientist sighed. The feeding station was broken again. As he hunched over the malfunctioning machine, he heard a crack behind him.

Too late he spun round to see that The Baroness had ripped open one of the wall plates, revealing the workings of the Defence System within. Too late he saw the titanium dart gun designed to stop intruders in the monkey's hands. Miguel just hoped that this was one he hadn't added the poison darts to yet...

Miguel felt a thump, and everything went black.

The best way to wake up early for a kill attempt, I find, is to have someone else depending on you. With that in mind I agreed to meet a friend at my target's college in plenty of time to get them on their way out.

I positioned myself with a good view of the entrance, and my friend did the same. We waited for a long while, until it was just 5/10 minutes before their 9am lecture, which they should have I am told, started. At this point, either they didn't actually have a lecture, or weren't going to it. Reluctantly, I left the college at this point.

The Empty Man feels the compulsion again.

Drawn from his peace, barely hours after his last encounter, the memories still seared into what is left of his brain. Spilling over his waning consciousness like a thick coat of wax, an urge for death takes him. There is no room to feel, no room to breath, no room for anything but to obey the commands of the drugs screaming for attention in his skull.

He must go. He goes. He meets the assassin whom the people who made him this way say he must assist. He takes position and waits, shaking and twitching.

The target will come. the target must come. The target must die so the empty man can have peace again. The target does not come.

The empty man feels the crushing, crunching sense of betrayal. Smothered in the filthy blanket of his only remaining desire. He knows that whatever he does now, the drugs will not let him rest until he has killed again.

They will never let him rest.

I looked down at the screen in front of me, in shock. That was my target? That was who they wanted me to kill? The name, framed at the bottom of my job dispatcher was 'Reginald'.
Was this a joke? Some cruel twist in Kernel Gray's sense of humour?
Or was it a test of allegiance?

I knew what I had to do. The kill would have be quick, and soon – best to get it over with, before he began to suspect.
By coincidence, I didn't see my new target for several days, but eventually the day came when I spotted him the outside of one of the Cornelius Gray Academy Lecture Rooms.
Now was my chance.
I braced myself, and walked towards him, trying to prevent myself from giving the game away. He looked up, and I took in the eyes of my great ally and friend one last time.
I hesitated for a second, then lunged with my knife. He gasped, and realization passed over his face as the deep red of his blood began to pour out of the wound.
"Why..?" he gasped.
"I'm sorry.", I had time to say before he collapsed to the floor and was gone.

Being an assassin isn't easy, but business is business. I had learnt a lesson: have no allegiances, trust noone.

I left my target lying limply on the floor, and disappeared quickly, into the shadows.

Someone killed Karm Wood today; they were still bearing a weapon so I stabbed them.

Spike looked around, these masses of people always made her nervous. She knew she was here for a specific purpose, a specific person, but the crowd hid them well. She lingered nervously, eyes scanning left and right. Her hand, palm slippery with sweat, clutched the dagger concealed under her cloak. She didn't want to make this kill, but she knew it was necessary if she was to survive in this dog–eat–dog world. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she spied a figure. Not moving with the stream of people, he was hunched over his Gray Corp Digital Communicator (phone). Upon closer inspection Spike determined this to be her target. With her adrenaline racing she strolled up to him, his senses dulled by the Gray Corp technology, and stuck a dagger in his stomach. The victims eyes, hypnotized by the device, didn't look up as life faded from them.

Andromeda slipped through the door behind someone before it closed and locked itself. The building was dwelling quarters for some kind of worker, people who built weaponry or robots, she didn't know which. One of them had and that had done something to anger her boss or the boss of the syndicate itself and that was all that mattered She knocked on the door, her gun pointing and the gap. There was no response. She knocked again and called out the name that was written on the door. Still nothing. She took a couple of steps back to wait for either a surprise attack or for her target to return to their room.

Soon it became obvious that neither was likely. Andromeda backed carefully out of the building, staying alert until she was a reasonable distance away before cursing to herself. She had travelled lightyears out of the way for that mission and the consequences of returning to her home planet empty-handed would be dire. She quickly turned on the device embedded in her left arm that would bring up a hologram of the list of missions she had been assigned. As she suspected there was one not far away and she began heading in that direction. She was not going to be undone by bad luck.

Andromeda's next target must have been a more menial worker, a cleaner or cook. Their living quarters were in poor repair and had next to no security, so obviously, no one really wanted them kept alive. She didn't have time to wander around getting lost so she had contacted someone living in the same facility as her victim who was more than willing to meet her at the entrance and lead her to the correct room.

She knocked on the door again, keeping her gun hidden to prevent the target seeing it through the cracks and holes in his door. There was no response. She waited for him to return but once again there was nothing. She looked at her guide for an explanation but he just shrugged and said it was the wrong time for the target to be eating a meal.

As the two of them left the building, Andromeda was certain of three things. Firstly, someone had been warning her targets that she was coming and to hide from her. Secondly, she would not be able to return to her home that night and would have to hide from her colleges on an unfamiliar planet. Thirdly, the person who had done this before would die.

Albireo received a notification on his ether-pager: Andromeda was in the area and wanted to meet up. They met and greeted each other cordially. Andromeda asked him for his guidance in navigating through the unfamiliar landscape of this block of residences. He was happy to oblige his companion, although a little puzzled as to what they were doing in this part of town. Andromeda gave him an address, to which he dutifully lead them. Andromeda gave the door a firm knock. No sound came from within. They waited, listening keenly, trying to tell if anyone was home. Andromeda knocked again, louder. Still no response. Andromeda shrugged, and said "I shall visit him another time". Albireo thought this was an odd way to pay a social visit, but he had no reason to suspect otherwise... And he had learnt it was for the best never to ask sensitive questions in public, the Gray Corporation had ears everywhere.

This evening I set out for my second assassination. The target's location was listed as the same complex that I had to infiltrate last time, but a different building. I entered the site and headed in the direction of the new building. The barracks were much quieter today and I became worried about getting into the building. I found the building and my way was indeed blocked by the infamous experimental card lock technology. However, I didn't have to wait long – I got lucky – an unsuspecting insider exited the building shortly after my arrival and I was able to gain entry. I located the room, knocked on the door, shouting a greeting with the least nervous voice that I could muster. To my relief, the target opened the door and I shot him in the chest.

Around 21:30, I decided I would go on a trip in the remote Desert of Rhöbeensohn, away from the big metropolis. I had heard of a local rebel group linked to the 'Planetary Freedom Movement' (PFM), who had recently attempted a few attacks on members of the governing body. The journey was long but I was determined to walk through the mountains of the Youél. I entered the Desert and navigated my way in its labyrinth.

As Karl Keynes, opened his door, surprise flashed in his eyes as he realised who I was. He tried to avoid me, But my hand was too quick and I pierced through his neck. Having performed my task, I drank a little from the jug he was still holding in his hands.

It was going to be my fourth visit, my heart was pounding in sync with my nervous footsteps. My mind was filled with questions, "Would I be unsuccessful again?", "Do I even deserve to be an assassin?". I guess the first kill is always the hardest. I suddenly found myself outside her door, my legs knew what they wanted but why wouldn't my mind agree?

My trusted friend who has had blood on her hands before came to give me the push I needed. While I was still questioning my motives, she knocked on the door which instantly cleared my mind. All of a sudden I knew what I wanted, and I was going to get it. I hid out of sight as my victim slowly opened her door. This was my chance. I leapt forward and took out my gun, aiming it with such precision, that one shot, no more, no less, was all I needed. My victim caught in the surprise of my attack realized her fate a little too late. She was ever so sweet and innocent, it broke my heart after I realized what I had done. The monster inside me unleashed at the moment of killing had finally left me. But I did not go back to my old innocent self. It was too late, I too have blood on my hands now, and I am sure the sweet taste of my first kill will lead me to crave many more.

I just killed one of my targets.

I visited my target's accommodation today but, perhaps unsurprisingly, the door to the building was locked. I waited a bit, hoping someone would pass through the door - my target probably would, if I had guessed their subject right - so that I could slip in, but nobody did and so I was unable to get in. After walking around the building hoping there might be some alternate entry point, I realised that I would be unable to get close to my target's room without knowing someone on the inside and decided to head home.

I was itching to get another kill, I had made quite a few unsuccessful attempts now, and decided to try Faris Khan again as I had scouted where his room is yesterday. I arrived at 5:30 and could see he wasn't in yet, nor was the one other person who lived through the door that led to his room. So I moved to position myself with a clear view of where he would be. As I did this, he walked past talking to a friend. That was lucky! So I quickly turned around, walked quickly and purposefully towards him, and stabbed him in the back with my laser sword.

ONCE upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Monday, Winnie-the-Pooh was out walking. He had heard that somewhere in [REDACTED COLLEGE], someone was making honey.

And so he had got up, and said: "The only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it."

And now he was on his way to get the honey.

As he walked, he sang a little song to himself:

"Isn't it funny

How a bear likes honey?

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

I wonder why he does?"

At last he reached the college, and then he reached the staircase, and then he began climbing the stairs.

But being a being a bear of very little brains, he realised he had forgotten why he was there.

"Oh, bother," Winnie-the-Pooh said.

So, ignoring the confused looks from some passer-bys, he left again. He climbed back down the stairs, out of the building, and returned home to his bed.

"Caules, I have something important I need to tell you", said his uncle, sitting him down. The man's tone made Caules uneasy, something was wrong.

"It's about your sister, she has contracted what they believe to be called warp sickness".

With those words, it seemed like everything fell apart. His whole life, she had been by his side, supporting him. He had nothing but admiration for her, and the thought of losing her was too much to handle. Before he could react visibly, his uncle continued.

"However, there is hope. I just watched an interview with Cornelius Gray. A cure has been developed. Obviously, Fiore will be unable to attempt to claim this cure for herself, but all of us here believe that you can."

"Why me?" Caules replied. He was a lot less mature than his age would lead one to believe, and had never even thought about killing someone.

"You treasure her in a way unlike the rest of us, where we might hesitate and be lost, along with the cure, you will not. You will do everything in your power to get her back, and throw yourself into this endeavour with every fibre of your being. Please, save her." His uncle's voice became shakey at this point.

Caules nodded, his face determined. "I will save her."

Suddenly, Caules awoke from this recurring dream. The longer he spent in this contest, inactive, the more he was haunted by this earlier conviction. But this city he had had to move to was a death trap. Caules couldn't move without fearing for his life, and often the pressure would get to him. Especially the word "competence". He knew his time was running out, and had no idea what would happen to those unable to keep up. What he did know was that he would not want to experience it first hand.

Recently, Caules had befriended another participant, Winnie the Pooh. He had a connection to one of Caules' targets, and he knew that tonight would be his last opportunity to perform the kill. He was off to visit the family estate this weekend, and by the time he returned, this target, one Josh Garfinkel, may well be dead, and Caules would have no target he had a connection to.

Caules set off and arrived early to his target's college. He didn't know when his contact would arrive, or when his target would be likely to be going to dinner, or returning from it, so he gave himself as much time as he could. Waiting for him to arrive, Caules grew unsettled, there were others hanging around, perhaps they were also hunters. What if they were hunting him?! A girl moved to sit near him, and Caules crossed the street.

At this point, Winnie the Pooh arrived and entered barely acknowledging Caules. He followed him, and they emerged in the main courtyard. On their way to the target's staircase, Caules found it hard to see, it was dark. Then suddenly Pooh's hand signalled ahead, and Caules noticed a person about to approach a staircase.

"That's him!" Winnie the Pooh whispered, and Caules ran towards him. A passer-by walking the same way briefly interrupted Caules as he began to ready a spell to slay Josh, and the resulting exchange caused Josh to turn around. He was taken aback, but could barely walk one more stair before Caules, too close to escape, launched two blasts in quick succession at him. The first grazed him and the second pierced him in the heart.

Caules' magic circuits dimmed, and in a few seconds it was impossible to tell that he had done anything, save the corpse on the stairs. he turned to his friend and thanked him, and quickly departed from the college. He didn't know what to feel. He was safer from incompetency, but he had just taken a man's life for it. But would he change what he had done? After a brief reflection, he concluded that no, he would not. His sister was depending on him, and he was determined not to let her down.

EDWARD BEAR, known to his friends as Winnie-the-Pooh, or Pooh for short, was walking through the [REDACTED FOREST] one day, humming proudly to himself. He had just been told by one of those friends that someone Pooh knew had made some honey.

So he met up with Caules Forvegde Yggdmillenia to go and get this honey.

Pooh and Caules Forvegde Yggdmillenia kept walking to until they came across the place where Diamond Dog lived. It just so happened that at the very moment Diamond Dog was returning home.

Then Caules Forvegde Yggdmillenia went over and shot him.

Pooh Bear was confused. He did not understand why Caules Forvegde Yggdmillenia had shot someone he knew just so Pooh could get some honey. Indeed, Pooh, having no brains, did not even know how to find the honey by himself.

Then Caules Forvegde Yggdmillenia walked away. Now Pooh was stuck. He had no honey, and no way of getting to any. He also did not understand why Caules Forvegde Yggdmillenia hadn't finished helping him to get some.

Pooh Bear left with his stomach rumbling.

Being an evil genius was a lot harder than it was cracked up to be. There was the being a genius for a start, though, Miguel was reasonably certain he had that down.

He'd done everything that Supervillains were supposed to do - stalked out the premises of his target, planned an escape route with the fewest witnesses. Carefully he'd lurked in the shadows and donned his disguise, arming himself to the teeth (and armpits, and socks, and pockets), and entered his target's premises. He'd even prepared a monologue!

He reached the door and knocked. No answer. In their pouches, the S.T.A.Bs (Symbioticly Trained Attack Beasts) squirmed, eager to be let loose on a target. He knocked again, his pulse racing. Still no answer. The S.T.A.Bs were now chewing on his leg.

Miguel checked his watch. Damnit. He really wished that real life was as accurate as his scientific models... Oh well. Soon they'd learn to fear the name of Dr Jaksoni.

As he turned to leave, the soon to be terror of the world thought of leaving a calling card. He decided to pass until he got a better catchphrase. 'Inept, but not yet Incompetent' didn't have the right ring to it...

I killed Edward House this evening at around 9:15 or something. Nothing fancy, just knocked on his door then shot him with an elastic band gun. He didn't seem that bothered tbh: "oh... shit".

On Thursday evening, whilst enjoying a good beer and watching a bit of comedy with a few friends, Duggan suddenly caught the eye of his target. He saw him ordering a beer, but was aware that there were too many bystanders around to make a clean kill; further, his target had also recognized him, after their last skirmish. So Duggan bided his time and waited. He shared his observations with Viscount Vermillion, on of his most trusted friends. The Viscount helpfully kept an eye on Alex Denny, whilst Duggan was facing away, both of them trying to remain unobtrusive. The Viscount reported on Denny's activities, saying, he "appeared to be chirpsing". Duggan was quite apprehensive, as he knew he was in full sight of his target, and that his target could strike back at any moment. He hoped he was more focused on his date...

Covertly Duggan checked all the blades he had hidden away. He chose his favourite stiletto and kept that in his hand, whilst the comedy was commencing. Not really listening anymore, and more in his own head, Duggan sipped from his beer. Viscount Vermillion reported that Denny appeared to be successful, and was heading to the bar to get another drink. In the cover of his friends, and only because the bar had considerably quieted down, Duggan drew his stiletto. He came up to Denny and stabbed him in the back. The look of the betrayal on Denny's face paled in comparison to the scream of his date. Most patrons of the bar though were more involved in the comedy and ignored or simply overheard her cry. Luckily, she had not seen Duggan, so with the help of his loyal Viscount, Duggan made his getaway, reported to his employer that the target Alex Denny had been eliminated at 21:24 of this evening, and waited for further instructions...

The Stork Brigade has risen at last! And with this, our first rescue of a stork marked for unwinding, we are one step closer to overthrowing the Unwind Accord! Long live the Stork Brigade! Long live the Storks!

The rescue itself was straightforward, but as the first act of our uprising it was decided that I, Mason Starkey, the leader of the Stork brigade, would lead the mission. I went in heavily armed, and waited for the parent Jul Tamer to return home. I spoke briefly to him, to calm his fears, before drawing my pistol and shooting him. This did not kill him, but moments later, with I shot him again with my second gun, and he was dead. I took his keys, stepped over his body and entered his house to liberate my fellow stork.

This will not be the last you hear of us. Fear the Stork Brigade. We are coming for your unwanted children, and we are not afraid of you. Fear us!

How does a (college) orphan, son of a lawyer and a Scotsman,

Pooled to [REDACTED] college (not in the Caribbean) by providence,

Impoverished, in squalor*

Assassinate a 1st year Selwyn mathematics scholar?

By following him to lectures and stabbing him with a pen, it turns out.

*somewhat hyperbolic, [REDACTED] accommodation isn't really that bad

One stab to the torso in hall was all it took, followed by a parting kiss of death, and my swift exit. Jaws dropped as the blood splattered over his mostly uneaten fish and chips.

Our autumn outing obtained optimal outcomes: holey hick hunted – harming his helpless assassinnee Amanda. Burt Reynold's Sentient Pancakes dodged damage despite patiently planned perturbations.

Regards - Armed Alliterating Assassins

The heinous Holey Hick, and darling daughter; Gorgeous Git, went hiking in the high hills, hungrily hunting hits. At Amanda's abode, attack angles were analysed. Luckily, lessons in locks went unlearnt; we wandered in without worry. Several shots secured a solemn passing for poor unprepared Bubblegum.
Bothersomely, by being elsewhere Burt Reynold's Sentient Pancakes expertly evaded equal end.
Regards - Armed Alliterating Assassins

Dressed for the occasion in a blazer, shirt and tie combination, with of course the fun-to-feel texture of corduroy chinos covering my lower half, I Triple Nipple slipped into [REDACTED]. My weapon of choice - the 2017 champions league trademark adidas capitano football - drew the odd look on my journey, but I was a man on a mission.

Arriving outside his door was easy, as the surprisingly crap security meant I reached his room without use of card/'can you let me in please' at all. I pretended to talk on the phone outside and Fishpan, being a gentleman, stepped out to see what the commotion was about. This was his final mistake, as TriPPle NiPle jammed a foot in the doorway, and launched his football/nuclear warhead at the victim. It missed [Umpire's note: they call it 'experimental' for a reason - Gray], and both of us screamed, but luckily NiPPle was able to retrieve the bomb and relaunch, killing the infidel instantly. The weapon was later found to have the words 'galactic Wahhabist republic' written all over it, and was a warhead created by the *dystopian* intergalactic ISIS empire that now exists.[Umpire's note: something for the Twitch forced to deal with in due time, I assure you. Gray Corp would never let such a threat to our wondrous and fair society go unchecked.]

Fishpan and I spoke and had a laugh afterwards. It was a shame he had to die. I would blame the college porters for their poor border control

Once again, WICKED have sent me out to pursue an innocent victim, and, once again, I find myself compelled to obey.

The sickness is spreading wider, and I do not know how long humanity has left. At our current rate of deterioration, we may have only weeks left until it is too late to save the species. Yet still WICKED asks us to kill. It is still a great mystery to me.

Unlike my previous murders (I shudder to say that word), this time I was not alone. Perhaps WICKED wanted to test the bond of sisterhood (in a mostly non-genealogical sense)? Perhaps they were hoping to see us experience betrayal? But we are stronger than that.

In any case, the three of us met at the agreed time near our future-victim's lodgings, and discussed our plans for entry. However, a quick site investigation revealed our target to be elsewhere. We waited a while in case he should return, but it seems that WICKED had allowed him to live another day. With our work not yet done, we returned together to our own lodgings.

Perhaps you'll hear from us again tomorrow. Or perhaps WICKED will let him enjoy life a little longer. Who knows? We certainly don't. Maybe WICKED don't even know themselves yet.

But WICKED must know something. And I am determined that we should learn it too.

The clock struck 11 in the cool October air as the Queenslayer approached the black gates of the home of her next victim; armed with her gun and her new accomplice: Hazie.

Red-bellied black had already attempted to assassinate her not long before, a rather uninteresting battle. Bursting into her room, all wrath and no glory. He used a club, she used her wits. Left with no choice but to call a truce, Red-bellied black asked to be given another chance. A rematch. Agreeing, she let him go. But she was now back. Going to his room this time. He had underestimated the Queenslayer's determination.

This time, the battle wouldn't end with a truce.

Pushing the door open, Hazie handed her the gun.

"This should be a quick kill," Hazie said before standing outside the door.

The Queenslayer basked for a few seconds in the deafening silence before nodding to her trusted accomplice. Hazie knocked on the door and the Queenslayer waited patiently behind her.

Slowly, footsteps approached and stopped. The door slowly creaked open. Before Red-bellied black's face peered through to see his visitors, the Queenslayer lifted her gun and shouted: "BANG!"

Red-bellied black dropped to the floor in shock and gasped with wide yet innocent–looking eyes. He looked between the two women precariously and with fear.

"Wha...what just happened? Am.. Am.. I.. dead?" He shivered on the floor, unable to stand up.

The Queenslayer smirked. "Yes. You are dead."

"I don't know what to say," he murmured.

The Queenslayer cocked her head to the side and played with the gun in her hands.

"I do." She passed the gun to Hazie with a smile, who grinned back, before turning back to Red-bellied black.

"Chaos is a ladder. Only climb it when you know who is waiting for you at the top."

Hazie walked past the Queenslayer and opened the door. The two left without a second look back, neither at the familiar black gate, nor the trembling man still left on the floor.