The Assassins' Guild - Week 1 News

Robert the Construction Consultant was having a typical busy day. His schedule had been packed full of all of his usual activities. Usually these included drinking tea, annoying clients' neighbours with loud hammering, and shouting abuse at Wendy from the window of his white van.
However, Robert had got himself a nice well-paid job this time working on the very wealthy Professor Incompetent's rear conservatory extension.
So far, he'd made some great progress, putting the windows in the wrong way round, trampling brick dust into the Professor's Fortress, dropping a tea mug on the Prof's dog and scraping the wing-mirror off some car stupidly parked within range of Dizzy. On top of all this, Robert reckoned there were some delays that might let him increase his price for the job and put back the completion date another few months - after all, it wasn't his fault that Scoop hadn't been able to fit down the Professor's road and Lofty hadn't mentioned he took petrol instead of diesel.
Robert surveyed the creaking half-built edifice with satisfaction, noticing that one of the wonky windows was leaning out of the frame and preparing to drop onto the ground. He made a mental note to shove some gaffer tape down the side of the pane (that'll sort it right out) when he noticed the architect, Light Yagami, looking at his work from a vantage point at the back of the garden. Robert scowled, snatched up his toolbox, and stomped across the Professor's tulips - useless things - to her.
'You know you're going to have to put an extra storey on top of that, right?' she said.
She may have been an excellent architect but she didn't know building like Robert did. 'Right, love,' he leered. 'Why don't you go fetch me a cuppa while I do the real work?'
She gritted her teeth and started going off towards the Fortress, probably to fill out another of those 'Inappropriate Behaviour in the Workplace' reports. Robert spat. Why couldn't people just let him get on with his bloody job? 'I can bleedin' fix it,' he murmured vindictively, dumping his toolbox on the ground and springing open its latches. A quick rifling through its contents - hammer, drill, BNP stickers, oil, nails - revealed a large jar concealed at the bottom. The perfect antidote to meddling by overpaid fools who tried to tell him how to do his job. Inside the jar was a large spider, probably about a hand's width across.
This spider was Larry, known affectionately to his (the spider's) friends and family as 'the Spawn of Beezlebub.' After a string of interesting jobs working for a certain Kim in the DPRK, Larry had chosen employment under Robert as a kind of low-stress holiday. Robert points in the direction of meals and Larry wanders over to remove the source of Robert's latest troubles. In this case, when Robert removed the jamjar lid, Larry was treated to a full view of the retreating architect. He immediately scuttled straight out of the jar and legged it towards Light Yagami like the eight-legged ball of pent-up rage he was.
All Robert saw was a rustling in the grass, a waving of tulips, and an incredibly rapid streak of black as Larry launched himself at his target. Robert grimly shut his toolbox and began to move back towards the Fortress. Any remains of the Architect could be disposed of by Muck later, and Larry would find his own way back.

A Proposal.

A Gift.

A Time Bomb.

An Explosion

A reminder by the Umpires that Bombs are illegal weaponry.

The Wanted List grows.

As I slaved away preparing a meal I heard someone sneak into the kitchen. I turned my head and saw a stranger aiming a gun at me. There was a loud noise and I felt the pain of a bullet smashing through my shoulder blade. My attacker whispered "I'm sorry", before disappearing. He did not realise that the shot was not fatal. I returned my attention to my meal. Seeing blood all over it, I sighed. I was alive, but my dinner had been ruined.

A mistake by RumHam.

A reminder that Cooking makes you OoB.

The Wanted List grows.

A Mysterious Stranger's willingness to report whenever someone goes wanted diminishes.

It was a nice evening. Some people are even able to socialise at such times. While some prefer to talk about weather, Bumblebee Man likes to complain very loudly to the whole corridor about banned weaponry. Why would one do this you may ask? Well, the use of one such weapon has just made her wanted. The chance could not be missed, the opportunity was perfect. What followed cannot be described in writing. If I could, I'd live through that moment over and over again: bullets piercing the body while its owner is hopelessly trying to hold onto the last remnants of life. But it's over now. The body of the wanted fugitive is lying in a pool of blood. I left the speechless bystanders to come to terms with the situation and went back to the comfort of my own home.

The Wanted List shrinks again.

Yesterday, I went to a party where my ally Sideshow Bob was also present. Around 00:45, Shinigami (also at the party) drew out a knife and stabbed my ally. That's when I realised I did not have a weapon on me. I saw the knife still planted in Sideshow Bob's chest and went for it. I extracted the knife, and stabbed Shinigami. Surprise and shock could be read on his face. "But I thought you weren't playing", he managed to articulate as he fell next to Sideshow Bob. I hope that in his last moments, Sideshow Bob will have seen that revenge has been taken, and that it will give him some peace.

I mean, it ain't as though Toon Town was ever a stellar place to be.

Sure, you'd think it'd all be so grand - fame, fortune, your name in lights. But there are still toons round here hustling day to day to get by. Success stories sell. Dead ends don't.

But still, you could get by. Sure, it wasn't the safest place, but it was a place with its own rules, its own routines, and a smart man - or a smart toon - could get along just fine.

But now? Something went down in the past month or so, something big. I still don't know what's happened, but there's toons been disappearing, and I got people coming to me worried. I don't like it - sure, business is good, but there's too many cases sounding familiar. I'm beginning to wonder if I ain't in too deep already.

But still, I gotta take the cases. Who would they turn to? The cops? That damn fool mayor of ours? No. [Umpire's Note - Vote Quimby] There ain't anybody in this town who can be trusted to solve a case like this. So I gotta. Besides. It keeps a roof over my head, and a bullet in my .38. A man's gotta eat.

So anyways. Things had gone quiet - a little too quiet, but there wasn't a lead to be had anywhere in town. No trace of any of the vanished toons; nothing but a drawerful of cold cases and a bad feeling crawling down the back of my neck. I don't know how long I'd been staring at the ceiling, jack in hand, when the file got pushed under my door. They'd vanished by the time I looked out, whoever it was, but the file had names and faces I didn't know, a few scraps of information on each of 'em. One of them had a time and a place scrawled longhand underneath. More disappeared toons? An informant? A trap? I had no idea. But it was the closest thing I had to a lead. Even if someone did try to put a bullet in me, I'd at least have some ballistics to follow up.

So I pace up and down in the rain, eyes peeled, all over the stretch of street I'd been pointed at, a good fifteen minutes before the time they'd given me. You ask me, any guy who turns up to a place like that when he's told to deserves to get jumped. But I don't see any trouble - no goons setting up an ambush last minute, nothing.

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes later, and still nothing. I don't fancy sticking around much longer. Whatever trouble had kept my guy from turning up, I wasn't gonna be here when it came looking for whatever he'd been doing. It's quieter round this place than it shoulda been, and there ain't anybody about who looked exactly what I'd call an upstanding citizen.

I stalk back to my place through the driving rain. Damn toons. Damn fool's errands. Whoever sent that dossier better pay up handsomely if they wanted me hanging around on a night like this.

I slam the door to my apartment. Lock it behind me. Can't be too careful, not in a place like this. I mean, it's not like a locked door'll keep half the toons out, but at least it keeps me halfway safe from some of the more solid goons out there. I collapse at the desk, reaching for the nearest bottle, and it ain't till then that I realise something's wrong.

See, it's hard to ransack an empty apartment. What little I do have, it's most always messed about enough that it wouldn't have seemed out of place. But whenever I'm at my desk, I keep a bottle and a gun within arm's reach. And somebody'd moved that bottle.

So I go through the rest of my things, trying to see what had been taken, what had changed. Damn. So this is why I'd got sent to a particular place at a particular time. They didn't want me caught; they wanted me out of the way. And like any idiot worth his salt, I'd left early, thinking I was one step ahead of them, and given them all that extra time.

Even after I'd scraped all my case files together, there don't seem to be anything gone. I'd checked for bugs, wiretaps - nothing. It creeps me out. Surely there woulda been something â?? you don't ransack a guy's home for the hell of it. And if they hadn't gotten whatever they'd wanted, then they'd have stuck around to get it from me directly. It don't figure.

It ain't until I opened my desk drawer that I get my answer. Nobody knows about the secret compartment there, the false bottom where I hide the things that really do want keeping safe. But it was heavier than it had been when I'd closed it last, and prying up the panel, I get my answer. They'd left me something. A little calling card.

I lift it out. It looks like a weapon, kind of, if I had to guess. But no weapon I ever seen before. Coulda been a gun â?? muzzle, handle, trigger â?? but the shape of it's all warped as hell. Like somebody'd stuck a gas canister where the chambers shoulda been. I turn to the wall, already riddled with bullet holes, and pull the trigger.

Yeah, yeah. My landlady oughta hate me. But I pay my rent on time, and I bring less trouble home than half the goons in here. Besides, with rent like that, in a place like this, she's lucky to be filling half the rooms. I don't complain about the rats or the hot water, and she don't complain about the bullet holes.

I don't know, I still expect it to fire bullets. It ain't a toon gun; I wouldn'ta thought it could fire anything else. But instead it sprays some kinda liquid over the walls. I don't get it at first. But then the smell hits me. Like when some dame's doing her nails all fancy. Acetone.

I step closer to the wall, sniff again. I know it, and it turns my blood all cold. Acetone. Turpentine. Benzene. You wanna kill a toon, sure you can shoot him, but there's half a chance the bullets'll bounce right off. But this stuff? This'd dissolve a toon right off the face of existence. Some freakshow went and made a weapon that fires out a jet of the Dip.

And they'd given it to me.

Now, I don't like toons. And I don't trust 'em. But you ask me, there's a lotta difference between not liking a guy, and making a weapon special to burn right through him. This is sick as I'd ever seen, and I'd seen some sick scenes in my time. How anyone could even think of something like this, I don't know. And I don't wanna. So somebody wants me to kill toons. They want it bad enough that they tricked me outta my apartment and then broke in and left me a weapon to do it special. They got resources, they got imagination, and they got some idea that I'm the guy for the job. But they're wrong about that one. I hate toons. But I ain't gonna kill 'em. I'm a detective, not some gun for hire. And even if I did wanna kill toons, there's no way I'd use a piece like that. That? It's pure evil. I don't even wanna touch the thing. There's no way in hell I'd ever use it on a toon.

Would I?

Snafu likes to sleep. Snafu likes to snore. Snafu resents having to wake up for a secret mission that doesn't go anywhere because the target never shows their bloomin' face.

Situation remains normal: all f***ed up.

It was a quiet, sunny day I thought as I flew to the arranged meeting point, a target's college entrance. Private Snafu and Wabbit were already there when I arrived, and we positioned ourselves to cover the likely exists. We waited, and continued to wait. Maybe they're not coming, I thought. What a shame, I have been itching to blast someone into ash for a while now, it's been too long since someone actually wanted to pay life points to summon me in a duel. Eventually, it became apparent that our target wasn't coming, that or they were far too late to their class. Reluctantly we departed, and I flew off to try and hunt some more.

"What a woeful waste of a wabbit's pwecious time! Wantonly, willfully evaded!

Well... What of it, I am a civiwised wabbit after all. One does what one will, there will be time... There will be time."

The Wabbit paused in its frustrated bouncing for a second and munched down another carrot. Just for a moment the world seemed at peace again. If only all things could be as simple as carrots. If only a Wabbit could do what a Wabbit wanted (the Wabbit chided itself for thinking in alliteration, one *talked* like that if one was a civilised toon, it was not beneficial to *think* in such ways). A clear head was needed for the task at hand anyway.

And just recently, for some reason, the task at hand seemed a whole lot simpler. Before, life had seemed complex, the Wabbit's Wabbity problems so very hard to solve, it would always be in the shadow of the other rabbits, it would always come second, never be noticed, never be anyone.

Now though, well... The Wabbit crunched down hard on another carrot, it disappeared, leaving only a delicious flavour in its wake. Now, maybe all things could be as simple as carrots.

"Oh yes, Wodger, Bugs, It's Wabbit season now"

Today had been a failure however, the Wabbit's friends, Snafu and the brilliant but terrifying blue eyed dragon had been lead on a wild goose chase, they had waited, with their respective ACME sponsored Friendly Greetings and Big Pointy Teeth only to be, rudely, stood up.

Never mind, there would be time. For too long the three of them had been at the bottom. Now they would rise.

A voice sung out in the street.

"Be vewy, vewy quiet, Wabbit is hunting you".

I entered the lecture briefing room this morning, and as Professor Professor was preparing his slides I turned around as Kenneth attempted to stab me. Luckily, I dodged this attack. The professor noticed and called "Victor, are you still alive?". "Yes I'm still alive! " I exclaimed!

I flew towards the room that, had my friends in Toon World been correct, is where another target could be. I noticed a large group walking below me, and scanned them very carefully as I readied my blue fire breath. None of my targets were amongst them. Soon I arrived at my destination, a rather dilapidated and deserted building. I wandered around and saw no signs of life. For a Toon Town it seemed a bit un-fitting. Clearly my potential victims here had evaded me for now.

Kenneth, having failed to kill me earlier, had dropped his knife on the floor! I picked it up, and hid it under my uniform until Professor Professor's lecture was over. Safely out of the room, I caught him hiding behind the door. At this point, Professor Professor called. "Victor, are you still alive?" "Yes I'm still alive" I replied, giving away my position to Kenneth. Realising his lack of a weapon, he tried to run, but I swiftly brought an end to him with his own weapon. Another successful mission!

Pretty standard stuff. Follow someone into the staircase, wait for a few minutes and... BANG! Isn't it amazing how a body can be both warm and dead? Peak will never get to experience this.

Something, something, dark presence, something something lady friend, something gloom, blah blah, dark tower, darkness, spirits, afterlife, something or other about betrayal, drifting and such...

The life of Bravo Oscar Bravo has been... disrupted (if my weapon of choice had become anything else recently, that pun wouldn't have worked nearly as well).

My reverse profit begins, owed cookies count (exclusively for this game): 1

Anyway, I remain

-The Gentleman

After many hours of research, the target was identified. Her patterns were analysed. She was new to this, not carrying her weapon with her, taking the same route daily - an easy kill. By shear chance she evaded death not once, but twice and still the target remained unaware. I closed in, approaching the targets den.
One shot, one kill. The target was down and wouldn't be getting up again, the long hours of preparation for this one moment had paid off.
I looked down at my hands, still spattered with blood; was it right? Should I have waited for to turn around? No I resolved, shooting her in the back was much safer.

What's a murder?

There was a place where it was possible that all of my targets could be at this time. I made my way there slightly early and waited outside this lecture theatre. Obviously the first lecture which should contain one target was over-runnng or people like to take their time leaving as so far only two people have emerged. I relocated to the route my other targets could be taking between their last class and this one, ready to bear my fangs and sink them into these people should they emerge. I spotted someone who looked like one of them, but just different enough to cast doubt. I had no way of ascertaining his identity without giving away my intentions, I thought, and after a friendly toon nearby couldn't give me a positive ID I decided to play it safe and leave.

Target 1: [REDACTED]
Accomplice: [REDACTED]
Status: Still Alive
Notes: Guided to the [REDACTED]'s door by [REDACTED], the
target did not respond to hailing and attempts to breach the door
were unsuccessful.

Target 2: Regina phalange IV
Accomplice: [REDACTED]
Status: Assassinated
Notes: Again guided to the targets accommodation by [REDACTED], this
time music could be heard through the door, confirming the presence
of the Target. Further confirmation was provided after a knock as a
muffled "hello" could be heard. The door opened moments later, the
targets identity was confirmed verbally and a single shot was fired,
hitting Phalange fatally in the gut.

Weapon: [REDACTED]
Ordinance Dispensed: [REDACTED]

A wanted criminal is in town. It's time for action! I did my research and headed to one of their lectures. I patiently waited outside a lecture theatre and I started to lose hope as more and more people left without me getting a positive id. Then suddenly I saw a face. It looked way too familiar yet completely unexpected. it wasn't the person I was hoping to find but I recognised them as one of my targets. What a coincidence! Hyperboloid's Paranoia may be contagious but most people die sooner than they can develop first symptoms. It was the case for Looney-tic. Trying to go about your regular life carelessly is a death sentence these days...

- Paranoid Hyperboloid

After involuntarily and accidentally joining the Union army, I have been trained to detect any potential rebel confederates in my surroundings.

11 am, Tuesday, 30 June 1863, joint cavalry high command, Gettysburg Pennsylvania.

After a lecture about our plans for the next day's offensive, I overhear an unknown person calling out my name from a distance, shortly before they approach me and ask whether I belong to the 22nd Cavalry and train at [CLASSIFIED] college, a truth I quickly deny.

The only way for this soldier to recognise me in such a manner is for them to be a rebel spy. I decide to not take action immediately, and to investigate this person's identity. After a database search of the high command, and a tipoff from a local, her true identity is discovered, and a plan put in place.
The target is discretely followed the next day and executed by revolver after separating from other potentially rebellious companions.

A full search of all other health staff in the barracks is being conducted in order to ensure that no more teeth go mistreated by any potential sympathisers to this Dodgy Dentist.
I got lucky this time, and it appears that the confederate plans were deeply affected, as the Gettysburg offensive is turning in our favour.

If I survive this battle, which shouldn't be too much of an issue, due to my horse Arabesque "feeling unwell" before every cavalry charge, I will return to track down these rebel infiltrators.

May God save the Union.

I (Night Angel) attempted to assassinate Mort.

I knocked on the targets room door. He proceeded to open it, at which point I stabbed at him with a laser sword. In a ninja-like manoeuvre, the target blocked the attack with one arm and closed the door with the other. We agreed that I had not killed him and I left.

Night Angel was making a housecall, but Mort wasn't interested in the medicine that was being offered.

A simple proposition really, why chase after your target if instead you can get him to come to you? Step one- Lose money to him in a high-stake poker game. Step two- Agree to give him the money later in the evening. Step three- When he arrives at your room to receive the cash, send a bullet through his heart instead.

And that's exactly what I, the cowardly Dirk Dwyer, attempted and succeeded to do this evening.

[Umpire's Note – Vote Quimby; he'll even correct your English]

I went to DOGS ARE TASTY's room at [REDACTED]. I knocked. He opened. I whipped out my banana.

Bang.

Now he's dead.

[Umpires' Note: We deemed that due to having just opened his door, and being drowsy due to it being late, Faris was suitably unaware for this Bang Kill to count]

[REDACTED] college girl knocked on my door with her accomplice, trying to kill me. I eventually got out of bed as they were going down steps. Went after them with my gun and shot them both in the back, in the gardens : )

Heya nerds!

So today I was wandering through my pan-dimensional nightmare realm, and I thought to myself, â??You know what I need? A friend'. And what better friend than a D̴̯̪̬̹̲̈̊̆̿̆E̱̳̺̦̯̽A̧̢̨̤̜͙̒͆̄̉͑͢D̸͈̮̫͢L̡̰̰̺̤̿̂͑̊̓Ỷ̵̰̟̘̜͖̜̜ K̢̼͓̩͖͟ͅI̧̧̺̮̭̜̟͕L̨̞͙̩͇̗͌Ľ̵̗̙̻̥͐̿͢Ȩ̨̩͓͎̪͍͖̗R̴̡͓͙͎͔̭ͅ?

So I paid Paranoid Hyperboloid a visit outside their worst nightmare - a lecture hall. My body almost collapsed under the weight of all the horror when I arrived. It was wonderful!

I started thinking about what a Paranoid Hyperboloid would want. Eternal Life? Ultimate Power? A Really Comfy Hat Made of Eyeballs? The Concept of Entropy? Cheese?

I got so caught up in how I would woo my new friend that I didn't realise their nightmare had ended and I was back to floating through the Void of thought.

Oh well. I'm sure we'll become friends soon. Coz you know what they say, keep your enemies dead and your friends D̡̰͍̮͔̋͒̎̈́͠E̶̩̦̫͕̫̫͎A̙͓͉̫͢D̩͔̣̥̰̟̮̃̈̂͒͢E̢̖̤͈̤̺R̜̺̮̯͍͚̰͞ .

I waited outside a Equinox's lecture hall in [REDACTED]. I waited outside the room between 11am-12 midday hopeful to strike. The target had a lecture due to finish at 11am but I did not see him leave the building. The target also had a lecture due to start at midday but I did not see him enter the room. Maybe next time.

Things went quiet for a while after that. I kept an eye out, watched my back, but I couldn't see anything shady - no tails, no traps, no wiretaps. Nothing. Either whoever paid me a visit was a better snoop than even I was, or they seriously didn't care what I did with that gun. And, yeah, I like being at the top of my game as much as the next guy, but still, I really hoped it was the first thing. Because if some freak was just handing out weapons like that and didn't even care what happened? I did not wanna be in town when the fallout from that one hit.

Anyway, I eventually got the tip-off that something funny had been happening downtown. Toon by the name of Herb. He'd been acting out of character, and for a toon, that's saying something. Anyways, he musta snapped or something, because from what I heard, he'd been caught out waving a piece around someplace he shouldn'ta, and next thing, he'd vanished, hiding out from the cops. So I headed downtown to see if I could find the guy, maybe catch another lead on whatever it was had everybody so shook up.

I ran into an acquaintance of mine while I was there - the dame who usually ran with The Gentleman. She'd caught wind of whatever was happening, wanted to see it for herself. I hadn't worked with her before all that much, but I knew she was a trustworthy type. Had to be - The Gentleman never did take kind to double-crossers. He ran his little mob well, but I never saw the guy give a second chance to anyone.

But yeah, so I figured I could trust this dame with whatever was going on. Told her what I knew, so we made a plan. She took the alley door of the dive our toon was supposed to be hid out in, while I strolled in the front. Busy place â?? you could barely see the back wall - but I found a decent place to watch folks go by. Took a while, but eventually I saw a toon who matched what I heard. Didn't wanna get too close if this was the wrong guy - I didn't exactly rate this joint or its patrons - but the toons he was hanging with all checked out, so I got closer. Eventually I got close enough to ask one of his buddies if he was from that show, and that's when he turned around.

He was definitely the toon I was after, but damn. I ain't never seen anything like it. Something was wrong in Toon Town, alright. He looked almost... real, I guess. In the eyes, at least. It was like seeing the Judge all over again, and before I could ask him anything, before I could even think, I'd drawn a piece. I don't know if he was going for a weapon or what, but he was dead before he hit the ground.

I ran out of the place cursing up a storm. What had I seen? What had happened in there? I don't spook easy, but that was wrong. And it was the best lead I'd had. And I'd killed the guy in a panic. Some detective.

I found the dame again, told her what happened. She hadn't seen much, just heard the panic. We talked it over, tried to figure out where to go from here. The cops probably wouldn't care about a crazy toon on the run from the law, but somebody else might. It was probably best if we both disappeared, at least for a while.

She was canny, you know? Sharper than you'd expect for a mob kid. Good pair of eyes to have around, and a good shot too. I tried to stay away from the mobs, especially the big fish like The Gentleman. But it pays to have allies, sometimes. Whatever I was running into, I didn't wanna be up against it alone. If I could carry on working with her and her people, then maybe that'd be enough to get through this mess. And I don't know, maybe I remembered what it was like working as a team. Before Teddy. I missed it, sometimes.

In the end, we decided it was best to split. Easier to keep tabs on two people together, if anybody was following us. Besides, she'd have to go report back to The Gentleman, and I wasn't sure I wanted to be answering to him that soon, even if I did wanna work with his gang in the future. So she went her way, and I went mine, calling over my shoulder that I'd see her around.

I guess that just goes to show, you never can tell what's round the corner. Because that was the last time anybody saw her alive.

Having been unsure, but now told, that Plain, simple Garak was indeed the person I saw on Wednesday, I met a friend, Bob the Destroyer, to ensure I would get it right this time. We also had an accomplice, Lucia Konohana, feeding us information in the lecture. When Lucia's message reached Bob that The man of glass and Plain, simple Garak were leaving, we made our way there from our hiding spot. I was unsure if they were aware so hesitated a little until their backs were turned. Then I pounced. I drew my claws and plunged my right into Plain, simple Garak's back, the momentum carrying me to The man of glass who's back became acquainted with my left claw.

Pika Pika >w<

Freakyzeaky was whacked of natural causes. Well, water is 'natural'.

I love the [REDACTED] college where doors don't automatically lock. Big shoutout to Regina Phalange the Third for not doing it manually either before going to sleep. The rest is left to the reader's imagination…