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Friday 20 October

Following a former recon to Caius, I had ascertained that my target was due to be rowing this morning at 7am. Rising early at 6:30am I then prodeeded to his fortress. I had managed to gain entrance earlier in the week under the pretence of collecting sponsorship for the Cambridge Dancers Club only to find my target to be out. This time all I needed to do was wait for my target to leave the security of his house.

Time ticked by, dustmen came and went, earlier risers off to work, but no sign of my would-be victim. I remained patient. 7:20 came and the door opened. It was a male figure, so I said his name. He turned, "Yes" he seemed to say, and then his neck was crimson with blood as my knife slashed through the carotid artery. As he fell to the ground, his life force ebbed away between the flagstones. "I'm an innocent" he managed to laugh with his last words.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn. Damn. I'd killed an innocent and there was no sign of my target. Was he actually in his room? I tried his doorbell. No reply. I tried again, "hello?" came the reply. "I say, are you coming rowing?" I replied. "It's not on." So I legged it.

For this unfortunate killing of an innocent, Simon Fenster Ford is now wanted

Peter Jones (Frybecue) was eaten away by the acid of The Death Shroud

Unawares, just as he emerged from the shower, and innocent-sounding knock was heard at the door and he emerged, wrapped in a towel.
'Hello', he said as he was faced by a group of young women who appeared to have just finished rowing...
'Are you Peter Jones?' asked one of them, and the poor fellow replied in the affirmative.
before he knew it he had been sprayed with an acid that was designed to eat through clothes, skin and bone, entering the bloodstream and resulting in almost instant death. Immediately after the killing had taken place, he was informed that the Death Shroud had struck again... to which he replied very good-naturedly 'jolly good'.

The Death Shroud then attacked Tom Nihilist Garnett in a similar manner:

The second victim, Tom Garnett, was less fortunate. He had already emerged from his room and was in the process of descending the stairs when an innocent voice stopped him in mid step.
'does Tom Garnett live here?'
'Yes' the poor fellow replied, 'that's me.'
In a flurry of acid (smelling rather like perfume, even if I say so myself...) he was dead and informed that the Death Shroud had struck again. He seemed to resent being cut off, in the middle of his life , and on the way to a lecture, before he could finish his blossoming career as an assassin. Such is life.

Shortly before expiring, Tom Garnett managed to splutter these words:
The Black Shroud is heartless, More accurately, I am now heartless after a nasty accident involving her, two accomplices, me, and a vial of flesh eating acid fired at my chest on my way to lectures this morning. Bugger.

Like all good wanted criminals, Fenster went on the rampage:

Knowing full well that following my bungled attempt to kill my target this morning I would be put on the wanted list, I recruited an accomplice to help me dispose of some of the police force this afternoon. First off was Sgt Estella. Finding her absent. Contact poison was left on her door handle and on her in/out board, just in case she uses it. A disappointing start, but success was to follow at Queens. Upon reaching the abode of PC P Zero, we found it to be open. Someone was in the toilet; could it be him? My accomplice and I lingered outside. A man emerged.
"Are you assassins?" Was P Zero's query.
A massive tear to his neck left blood rushing to the ground.

"Oh my, they've killed P Zero! Bastards!"

I truly do attract the weirdo's. I was just about to come out of the toilet when I heard a knock on one of the doors on the corridor. I cautiously opened and stepped out onto the corridor to see to figures waiting by my door. They turned, and I looked shocked; I had assumed they were there for something else, so I hoped that I would be able to get out of the rather tricky situation by feigning ignorance. They seemed convinced by my story so I began to walk away, subtlety reaching for my weapon. But as I turned to spray them both with lead (i.e. caps) they pounced. I was struck on the head with a cosh and as I fell to the floor unconscious my throat was slit. So that's the third team of fugitives who've decided to pay a visit to the hallowed halls where I dwell. Surely there must be a record for the most wanted people to visit a single person?

Fenster continues:
"I was only resurrected yesterday" he moaned. Then with his dying breaths "Seek the wanted criminal Becker in FF24."
So we did. In all appearances he was out, but after a few moments deciding what to do, we heard noises from inside. Making a retreat, the door opened and a gun was fired from the room. My accomplice (who was carrying my cosh) defended himself by delivering a huge blow to the head of Becker, leaving him unconsious on the floor. Unfortunately my accomplice suffered grazed ribs, and the door had locked itself meaning we couldn't finish him off.

The villainous Samuel Vimes bites the dust:

It has taken a week, but finally fate has caught up with the most wanted criminal in all Cambridge: Samuel Vimes (aka me).

Yes I'm dead, and by the hands of the master (Elektra King). The first attempt on me today failed. An assassin came up to my room. I heard a noise, opened the door and fired madly. He then came round the corner where he had been safe from my shots, coshed me and legged it. What kind of confrontation he expected armed only with a non-lethal weapon I don't know.

Anyway that is rather incedental as coming down from my room half an hour later I was talking with a friend in Cripps Court when a man pulled out a gun and fired rubber bands at me madly. These do not travel well outside when there is no wind and each missed. My shots from my hand gun also fell short. But his knife didn't. Cut down (literally) on Cripps lawn my blood stained the earth and my shade departs.

Well done Bjoern! Let our undead spirits join in a week's time to cleanse this world of those not worthy of practising this sacred art of assassination. Incompetants Beware!

PC Wiggum tells it like it was:
Having just joined the police force, I decided to bring the wanted criminal Samuel Vimes to justice.
I checked out the surroundings of his room (he appeared not to be in) and realised there were 43 reasonable routes for him to leave and arrive.
39 of those routes required him to pass through the inner court of Cripps Court, so I positioned myself there.
I saw someone with a cardboard roll coming out of Stuart's staircase, but I didn't realise it was a cosh at that time (I should find out later).
Then suddenly the wanted criminal appeared and started to talk to a friend of his. I sneaked up on him in the cover of a column and then sprinted towards him firing my gun. He brought out two guns and returned fire, so I took cover. Finally he tried to draw a bigger supersoaker, which required him to avert his gaze from me.
I used that moment to throw myself forwards, firing and throwing a knife at him. He was apprehended by the use of reasonable force; that is he received a knife and several shots to the chest.

And Fenster carries on some more:

Next on our list was PC The Mole. Once more pretending to be from the Cambridge Dancers Club, I managed to gain entrance. He was very open and didn't seem to have a care in the world. He was signing up when I spotted his gun on his desk. So I picked it up and shot him at point blank range. Unfortunately he was dead already, thanks to Electra King.
Another PC on our list was PC Patrician. My accomplice made a bungle on this one, when he couldn't read the door plates. I ended up killing two innocents by the names of Jim Bo Bob Bob and Phileas with knife thrusts to the back of the head. Patrician was out, so we left.
My nemesis at Caius was also out. Damn him, and Sgt Estrella was still out when we called round again. So we reflected on a small killing spree that had once more ended the life of P Zero, and enjoyed a packet of Rhubarb and Custards in the market.

Sergeant Estella noticed both poisoning attempts and avoided them.

Caroline Queen of Scots Westerlund was terminated by Reuter

Defense, check. Offense, check. Target acquired,
name: Tom Garnett. ETA: 17:00. Arrived at locale to find target deceased, Estimated Time of Death: 8 hours.
Re routing target. searching... New target acquired, name: Caroline Westerlund. Action re-replay:
*knock, knock*
:: door opens ::
c,"Who are you?"
r,"Hi! Remember me from school?"
c,"er, yeah, come on in, want some tea?..."
Target turns towards kettle. A swift incision to the lower back disables
target. Slicing her head open, notice yellow cream. Game OVER

Tom Garnett's ghost comments on the matter...

Having died this morning, I was a little surprised to see two shady characters sneaking (badly) up my staircase. They had in fact come to assassinate me, amnd were a little miffed to learn they were late. However they did have someone else in Jesus on their list, so we tramped off (en mass) towards Caroline's room. She was woken up, and was still trying to work out how she knew the figure on her doorstep, when he slid the knife home...

Naomi Agent 99 Blum was blown to smithereens by a device sent by Daisy:

Sorry, I have been a bit slow in keeping up - been a bit of a busy lass, what with getting killed and all. Yes I did get the flowers - what a beautiful way to go as well ! There was a letter bomb attached and I got blasted to high heaven, at least there'll be something to put on my coffin!

Dr Ineptitude launched a deranged attack via poisoned letter


I, the insanely evil (or evily insane, whichever you prefer) DR INEPTITUDE decided that the terror of the night pulsating from the dark confines of my hideout needed to show itself in the full glory of daylight, to strike fear into the hearts of all who opposed me!!!!!

My evil computer (well, it is a Mac) informed me of a naive little killer by the name of ::name remove to protect the victim::. My arch-nemisis, a person to be wiped from the face of the earth! So stealthily did I descend on Jesus today, with a letter loving coated with powder-based contact poison. Taking every precaution not to endanger innocents (I fear the wanted list) I placed it in his pigeon-hole, AND THERE IT AWAITS. The results shall be interesting...

I shall not rest until I rule Cambridge or am declared the most absurdly melodramatic villain of the term!!!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!

The target wasn't fooled however:
Dr. Ineptitude made a cowardly but cunning attempt on my life. A letter was received this morning, upon opening a distinct smell of talc emanated. I swiftly donned my surgical gloves (acquired from a medic friend) and had my fear confirmed,contact poison. Dr. Ineptitude's cocky words still run in my head...'You should be more paranoid'.... Mate, I am! Good hunting everyone

A report has come in of Nym making an attempt against an assassin who shall remain anonymous...

I arrive home to discover a note posted under my door.It says my name in block capitals, but I don't recognise the handwriting. Hmmm, it looks like it's been in a deep fat frier, the amount of grease that's seeped through from its underside. I'm drunk, so I don't touch it, but I am interested in who's sent it. I dim the lights, get out a torch, and read the indentations left by the pressure of the pen on the other side...


The next morning I interrogated my landlady. She eventually told me that a couple of girls had dropped round earlier. She gave me accurate descriptions, and seemed quite unaware of their nefarious intentions. Still, she does have a penchant for tidiness, so I'm surprised she didn't go into my room and move the note to my desk.

So, Miss Nym. I'll be watching out for you.

Saturday 21 October

Alex Pillage Panayi finally succumbed to the poison placed by Fenster

Just in case Mr Alexander Panayi didn't know that the game was underway, I have sent him a little note, warning him of his imminent departure from the mortal plane. Having failed to recognise previous poisoning attempts upon his life, he will most certainly have passed to the Other Side just after he has read the last line "from your kindly assassin, Fenster."

Fenster slit the throat of Edward The Sultan Gunn:

Now that I'm a wanted criminal, I decided that it may be best to keep a low profile, so what better way than to tour some of the outer colleges. My first visit was to Girton. Two potential targets here; PC Beast and Edward Gunn. I tried Beast first, but she was out. Contact poison was duly left on her door handle.
I had better luck with my legitimate target, Edward Gunn. His door was ajar, and music could be heard from his room. I had already done some research, and through one of my informants, learnt his subject. I knocked on the door,
"Come in,"
came the reply.
My plan was to pretend that I was from his DoS, and that I had been sent to find out how his students were doing. Clipboard at hand, and pen at the ready, I asked him the questions I had prepared, and duly noted his replies. However he was becoming suspicious, and I ended my inquisition with my trump card
"And you're a member of the Assassins Guild?"
He was honest, and admitted that the game was up. I killed him quickly and cleanly. I single stab to the throat. I left, knowing that his bedder would have to clean up the mess on Monday. This was a clean kill with no witnesses. A shame considering.

Fenster then butchered PC Kharn

My second certain victim of the afternoon was PC Kharn. I crept stealthily to his lofty lair, making sure not to make a sound. His door was also ajar, and he was listening to music whilst using his PC. I entered a dealt a single thrust to the back of the neck before he'd even realised I'd come in. As he died his second death he gave me a warning, "Beware Gemma Mitchell! She's fast!" As I left his room, I noticed what looked like near foolproof plans to kill me. It had been lucky I'd got to him first.

Fenster's last job of the day was placing a bomb on the door of PC Szatmary

Another PC on my list was Szatmary at Churchill. I was very concerned about the location of his room, and I didn't have a story to blag, so very carefully (Knowing what had happened to Electra King) I left a makeshift bomb on his door handle. Hopefully it would do the job. So ended my afternoon of fun. Perhaps my next report will be to inform you of my death.......perhaps it won't.

Which PC Szatmary defused:
some assassin has placed a bomb on the outside doorhandle of my room, probably assuming it would detonate when I leave the room.... rather unfortunate that I wasn't in then, and saw the structure on returning from town... it was a bit of a perplexing sight, but I must admit there was a little smile on my face... ;-). Anyway, better luck to the guy next time... ;-)

Horatio Zack Tate was assassinated by Archangel:

The Vice-President of the Italian intelligence agency had to be assassinated. This is to give a warning to the agency not to engage in industrial espionage. Recent operations by the agency include a spy plant in Pizza Hut to steal its secret recipe, as well as a sabotage on the pasta served at various colleges' butteries and formal halls.

The reason for these operations was simple; make students sick of mediocre Italian food and come to the agency's Pasta Party.

It was a silent evening. Archangel moved through the colleges with ease, knowing precisely his exact destination. Oops. A wrong turn there. He retraces his steps to get back on track. At last. The gates of Clare College.

The security was lax, as the Porters' Security Corp. was notified of the influx of students attending the party. When approached, the Porter immediately gave the directions to the event.

Arriving at the reception, Archangel requested to see the Vice-President, Mr. Horatio Tate. Being cautious, Mr. Tate was accompanied by his agent. Archangel asked for a private conversation, and the two moved outside the main hall.

Archangel introduced himself and enquired on an activity of the agency. Do not be deceived, the activity was only the cover for the agency's main activity of sabotage of pasta. The Vice-President happily described the activity, but Archangel knew there was more that he had to do than just make the person speak to get him distracted.

Archangel asked for contact details and the Vice-President happily scrawled his details. Without hesitation, Archangel whipped out his poison-tipped shuriken and hurled it at Mr. Tate at point-blank range. His last words were, " Ah... now i get it". Some are still confused why the words were not muttered in Italian.

Mission accomplished, the assassin left the building without any complications at all. The shuriken was retrieved and wiped for the next kill.

However, a question still remains unanswered.
Why is the buttery food in some colleges still appear to be sabotaged???

Barbara Babs Babei was skewered by Spocular:

Calmly sleeping in her bed was Barbara Babei, unaware of what was to befall her: the crap assassin was approaching. A knock at the door arouses the young lady from her slumber, but she is fearful of death, so does not know that she should open the door. But curiousity of what is on the other side overcomes her. And there he is Spocular standing before her with his loyal accomplice at his side. He asks who she is and her identity is confirmed. With this done the killing instinct is fired up in Spocular. Suddenly a knife is in her stomach and death has arrived - she never knew what hit her; no resistance was offered.

A note was found on Vampyre's (Steve Almond) desk:

"I've discovered the fabled Fountain of Youth, I'm leaving at once to drink from it. Immortality will be mine!"

Vampyre was last sighted heading for the River Cam...

The Eviiil One took out Ruth Jackson (Nym)

The evening began with a quick recce on Pembroke College. Having briefly scanned the matric. photo to see what we were up against, my accomplice and I quickly located the room only to discover it locked and its occupant elsewhere. So we swiftly vacated the area and made further plans for the hit over dinner. On returning an hour later the target was alerted of our imminent approach as we scaled the towering heights of the staircase, and despite my accomplice's best efforts at gagging the witness the door was slammed shut as I reached the top. So once again, we left Pembroke with our tails between our legs and no new notches in the stock of my revolver.

The next target on our list was in Selwyn. We were now into a routine, and after visiting the P'lodge to peer at the matric. photo we ventured into the Abode. This time my incompetent accomplice, despite all his attempts at stealth and subtlety gave the game away in sporting dark glasses and waving a brightly coloured machine gun in a fellow resident's face. All hell broke loose, and in the ensuing confusion an innocent was shot in the leg. We soon discovered that the Target was, in fact, out enjoying a curry night. After following our noses and visiting all the many curry houses in the county we realised we'd missed him (or his photo was particularly bad). By this time, the innocent had limped away to his room where he subsequently bled to death over a period of several hours.

We then decided to visit our friends back in Pembroke. This time, there were no guards and we were able to burst freely into the rooms from where voices came. I went right, my accomplice went left, and together we had the entire room covered. . The target was found cowering behind the door pleading "Don't shoot me!" Ruth Jackson subsequently received multiple gunshot wounds to the head, neck and body, whereupon she promptly slumped to the floor in a bloody heap. As the smoke rolled from the end of the revolvers the walls turned red with the blood of the many innocents who had just witnessed the assassination and seen our faces. With their last shallow breaths, they offered us tea and biscuits - how could we refuse?

Nym tells of her death:
I got killed last night by the The Eviiil One. TEO and accomplice had attempted a kill earlier in the evening but I had been warned by a friend on the floor below. Went to the Playroom and arrived home full of chips from the Van of Death feeling relatively safe. They wouldn't try twice in the same evening would they? They did and they found me cowering weaponless behind a friends door. It seems to be good post death ettiquette to offer refreshments so being friendly sorts of assassins they stayed for tea and biccies.

Haize impaled Nicholas Owen (The Eviiil One):

Following the successful hit, we ventured back past Selwyn to Robinson College (I never did figure out that travelling salesman problem). Once again we viewed the target's mug shots in the Porter's Lodge; so nice was the photo that we nearly bought a copy. We soon found the staircase where reliable source informed us that our target was out, but subsequent events would soon prove otherwise.........

On climbing (again) to the very top of the skyscraper that is her staircase, we found a door to our left - the door to the target's room - and a kitchen to our right, containing two innocent-looking girls making cocoa in the middle of the night. I promptly made the mistake of asking whether our intended victim was in. The girl who had her back to us answered no, and we quickly, and naively, dropped our guard. Unfortunately this was in fact the target. She'd spotted the large yellow water pistol harboured under my innocent accomplice's jacket (planned to be used as a diversionary tactic ), so she quickly went on to stab firstly him, and then myself, who was caught whilst drawing a concealed weapon. Before my eyes closed for the last time, I at least had the pleasure of shooting my accomplice in each arm for his sheer incompetence, and while our blood mixed as it flowed down over the stairs we were served cocoa by our kind killers. Soon, everything went black. Nicholas Owen, The Eviiil One, was finished.

Haize reports:
I was just leaving to go to the bar (esential pool practice required), but had stopped in the kitchen doorway to talk to a friend when two suspicious looking strangers (one with a poorly concealed gun) walked up the stairs, and asked if I was in.

Fairly obviously, I replied "No, I think she's gone out." and turned as though to ask my friend for confirmation, but basically to make sure she did not release my identity. Whilst facing away, with my hand hidden from them, I pulled out my trusty fist-spike, and then turned back to them to repeat that I had not seen myself.

I then proceeded to stab the closest of the two in the heart (the one with the visible gun), and as I made this move, the second reached into his pocket. But I was the quicker of the two, and retracted my fist-spike and had it plunged into his heart before his hand was even half out of his pocket. Ahahahaha!

Anyway, there now being two large pools of blood at the top of the stairs (and a fair bit on the walls - you get quite a lot of spray from stab-wounds to the heart - damn, the cleaners just told us they cant do the cleaning cos of staff shortages!), we decided that it was a good time to drink hot chocolate.

Sunday 22 October

Fenster ascended to the next level of criminality by taunting cops:

On hearing that my nemesis, Alex Panayi had finally perished following one of my poisonings, I went out and celebrated last night. Rising this afternoon, I found an email from none other than Sgt Wiggum. He suggested that I come round to his place with my gun and we could fight it out. I politely declined; I believe him to be an honourable man, but don't want to go toe to toe with him just yet. Instead I suggested an alternative challenge to let him escape from his essay hell. I would make a visit to the room of a PC, Bjoern was to try and guess which PC I would visit. If he found me, then we could fight.

In fact, I didn't visit one PC, but three. Alas I didn't meet Wiggum, or any of my three targets, so I did what an assassin on the wanted list does best; poison them. PC Patrician has contact poison on his door handle; Sgt Estella has a note in her pigeonhole with contact poison on, and PC Szatmary has poison gas in the space between his two doors. I'm still alive, but I know it's only a matter of time.

Sgt. Wiggum reports:
I got a email from the wanted criminal Simon Ford this afternoon, in which he announced his intention to kill one of my fellow police officers.
I didn't arrive at the scene of crime until the attack was over, but apparently no harm was done...
This is what his email said:

I'm sorry Bjoern, but I forgot my manners, and I apologise for not being in yesterday when you came round to see me. It was most inconsiderate.

However, if you're bored and looking for a bit of fun, here's the deal. I'm going out after I've finished this email, and am going to visit a policeman. Which one? That's for you to guess. If you find me, you get your chance to whack me, if you don't, you'll have had a nice bike ride. As for Robert Sayle, I'm not going to spend my chinyen there.

James Daniel Travarton Jane (Stelf) and Robert The Snort Enabler Ennals both found dead.

Having become bored of going to places that targets were supposed to be going to, only to find they didn't turn up, I decided I was going to try a more basic approach.

I turned up at Trinity, and asked a random person if they knew "Dan Jane" - aiming to find out more about his movements. Unfortunately Dan heard, and called down from his window, saying where he was.

"Bugger" I thought. I now had a choice of fight or flight. I decided that running away would give away my identity, making future attacks useless, and so decided to go in - carefully.

When I turned up at his room, I found it unlocked, but not containing my target. I span round to be confronted with Dan, who had hidden in his cupboard. He was hesitant, as I had not revealed myself to be an Assassin, and wasn't carrying a visable weapon. Suddenly I stabbed him with my concealed knife, and simultaneously he fired his gun.

Result: Both of us dead.

Monday 23 October

Fenster was terminated with extreme prejudice by Chief Wowbagger.

Alas, I must report that my death has finally come. I have been brought to justice by Chief Wowbagger, who terminated my life by emptying an entire cartridge in my chest at point blank range. A pawn of Kaiser Soze he must be. I now regret that I did not take up Bjoern's offer of a duel yesterday, as it was too easy for Wowbagger. He followed me from the DPO, killing me as I was about to visit the boys room, and just like that; he was gone. I suspect you'll find my body on a beach somewhere.

The Assassin formerly known as Fenster

Fenster has joined the police force

Quotations from the book of Wowbagger, vv. 1-34 (with translations):

O Yea, O Yea, O Yea!
(Er... fast forward this bit)

Here Bee Recounted Thee Demyse Of Simon Ford
(Simon Ford is, alas, no longer alive)

Ae Most Unholey Mann, Who Diddeth Moste Heathen Actes
(He was a wanted criminal)

Forty Dayes And Forty Nyghts Aego
(A while ago. Actually a few days ago. Actually, Saturday)

5 Wast Thee Wowbagger Vysyted Ynn Ae Vysion
(I got an email)

Ynn Whych Ae Mann Said Unto Hym:
"Let Us Goe Forth Unto Thee Abode Of Thee Heathen
And Smite Him Muchly"
(The email (clearly not from Sgt. Wiggum) suggested we go and try to kill him)

And Yea Didde Thee Wowbagger And Thee Mann Goe
(so myself and not-Sgt. Wiggum went and paid a visit)

10 Butte The Heathen Hadde Made Hymself Ynvysyble
(He wasn't in. Grr.)

Most Vexatyd Was Thee Wowbagger
(Grr again)

Butte Ae Doom Was Upon Thee Heathen
(As luck would have it...)

For He Didst Suffer With Thee Wowbagger
(...we happen to do the same subject)

Thyrtee-Nyne Dayes And Thyrtee-Nyne Nyghts Aego
(this morning)

15 Didst Thee Heathen Hymself Transport
Unto Thee Reposytoree Of Wyder Knowlydge
(he went into the departmental computer room and logged on...)

Moste Strayngelee Didst He Dare
Thee Proxymytee Of Thee Wowbagger
( the computer which, out of the 100 or so available, happened to be the one right in front of me)

And Thee Electronyc Minions Of Thee Wowbagger Didst Wail
(A nice little program on my computer promptly flashed up his name and location)

20 And Yea Was Thee Face Of Thee Heathen
Unto Thee Wowbagger Beholden
(which allowed me to identify him)

Ae Pennance Was Ymmynent
(he had lectures)

And Hee Didst Flee Thee Reposytory
Before Thee Myght Of Thee Wowbagger
(he left the computer room, I followed)

25 Butte Hee Couldst Notte Flee
Beylowe Thee Nynth Pytte Of Helle!
(He stopped at the bottom of some stairs)

Unto Hym Spaketh Thee Wowbagger Hys Name
("Simon!", I called)

And Yea, Was Hee Revyrsed
(He turned around)

And Hee Didde Gaze Upon Hys Destynee
(I had this rubber-band gun, you know)

30 For Hee Came To Knowe Thee Luger Of Thee Wowbagger
(a semi-automatic rubber-band gun decorated with tasteful yellow and black stripes was duly pointed at his chest)

Ae Trynitee Of Bullyts Didde At Laste Make Hym Holey
(he was shot three times)

Thence Dyd Hee Verytableye Snuff Yt.
(the cleaners are going to be clocking up the overtime again)

Butte Ynn Hys Demyse Has Hee Transcendynce Gained
(a minor criminal-to-police brain-transplant is impending)

Thus Endeth Thee Tayle Of Thee Wowbagger Fore Now

Chief Wowbagger, who ys ynfynytly prolonged.

Nidhi Greenmonster Mohnot killed by Abdul the Bul-Bul Amir(ABBA)

My millionth visit to her room was in vain as she was just never in. I decide to go to the porter's lodge to get a look at her mug shot.

Porter:"You want to meet her BUT you don't know what she looks like?
ABBA:"um..uh..she joined my society and has not been replying to emails"
Porter:"Oh right" (what a moron!)
Porter takes his time, goes over the spelling of her name six times and a second porter turns up
Porter2:" Oh Nidhi shes right here.....Nidhi you've got a boyfriend"
ABBA: Thinks"the kind that breaks your heart....with bullets, heh heh" I swung around the corner out of sight of porter and Nidhi. She comes out of the doorway and a bullet strikes her fatally
ABBA:"you're dead"
Nidhi:"who..,what, did you know it was me...oh the porters..whats your name?"
ABBA:Although it was her last request to know my identity..I declined and left the scene musing how she was a good sport.

John The Loose Cannon Morton was butchered by Archancellor Nokes

I staked out his place again. I could tell from my Assassin's sixth sense that he was in. The name plate which said "in" also helped. I had been here before and nearly killed his neighbor, so I proceeded with caution. He was standing in the neighbors room. From his lack of paranoia I ignored him thinking he was an innocent. So much so that at a distant of ten feet, I removed by revolver from my right jacket pocket and placed it in my left hand. Still no response from the soon to be victim. by now I was sure he was an innocent. So I knocked on the actual door, still holding the gun partially obscured.
The 'innocent' starts walking towards me and says "yes?"
I asked "Are you John?"
He said "yes."
I then unleashed a barrage of bullets. I emptied the whole round on him and then shot him again. He asked why the extra shot. I replied with bitterness,"for making me climb the stairs." And so with droplets of blood splattered on my face and clothes I walked away into the night.
Ok fine it was daytime.

The Mad Monkey Assassin shot Robert Ekhanpilt Hiersemenzel in the head:

Unfortunately I have to report my own death.

Having survived about 3 previous assaults on my life, I was unable to evade my destiny again. This afternoon, as the sun moved towards the horizon at about 5.30, I heard a knock on my door, and so I armed myself with various weapons and dangerous implements, foolishly feeling safe. I opened and an unknown, definitely assassin-like looking person told me some random stuff about a freshers event, hoping to lure me into confusion. Not impressed, I confronted him with "You're blatantly an assassin!". He tried to look innocent and was about to deny this, when suddenly a gun, held by my actual killer who had previously been hidden around the corner, appeared in front of my face. "Um, yes..." was the last thing I heard before a single shot triggered the end of my life, and darkness veiled my eyes. So I died, still clutching the weapons that had failed to guard me, resenting harsh fate.

I was then informed that I had been killed by the Mad Monkey Assassin and had a brief chat with my killers, who seemed surprisingly normal, disregarding the fact they just killed me.

The Mad Monkey Assassin has struck again! With the aid of the Manic Street Screecher, Monkey penetrated the high walls of Emmanuel College and haggled with the porter for a view of the matric photo, eventually settling on the price of a kebab and a pint of watery Guiness in the Hogshead. With our target, a Mr Robert Hiersemenzel, located on the photo and his visage imprinted on our minds we left the porter to enjoy his new found wealth and made for the subway. After negotiating the treacherous maze we found ourselves at the block. We entered and, after deciding scaling the side of the building might be overdoing it, climbed the stairs to the second floor. We approached the target's stronghold, tension was high, he could have seen our approach and be waiting, cap-gun in hand, to give us a severe ringing in our ears.
At this point, Monkey's fiendishly clever plan began. Screecher knocked on the target's door while Monkey stood concealed in the shadows. The target opened his door by a tiny fraction. Screecher then distracted the target by using Monkey's ticket to Fresher's Groove to pretend that he was selling them at a cut price. However, Hiersemenzel was suspicious:
'Are you assassins?' he asked.
'Yes.' replied Monkey stepping from the shadows, drawing his pistol in a smooth motion, and firing a single shot right between the poor boy's eyes. As the target fell to the floor, a cosh falling from his left hand and a revolver from his right, Monkey caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a quite shocking mullet and, in a moment of style-induced rage, emptied his gun into the still twitching corpse, to the shock of Hiersemenzel's neighbour and another innocent bystander who happened to be standing nearby. The job done, the assassins stealthily strolled out of Emma and back to their hideouts, stopping only briefly to consider a celebratory cup of Earl Grey and a Chelsea Bun in the Copper Kettle, but dismissing the idea on the grounds that it would make them late for Hall.

Beccy The One who Walks Alone Skellern was turned to sludge by Death Shroud:

On the fateful day of Monday 23rd October I was hard at work at my desk. The first moral of this story children, is that work is not good for you; if I wasn't working I wouldn't have been there and would still be alive. A series of three knocks at my door drew me from my desk, and foolishly I opened my door. An unidentified female asked me if my name was Beccy, and more foolishly I said yes. Even more foolishly, I carried on holding the door open. Children, the second moral is never talk to strangers, shut the door in their face if need be.

As I uttered my affirmative reply I was sprayed from a small bottle held in my Assassin's hand. My stomach and chest took the full brunt of the concentrated acid spray, which curiously enough had an overpoweringly floral scent. "Clinique Happy Spray" my Assassin smirked, "Death with a feminine touch". Moral three, children, never believe the advertising claims. The smell of death hung menacingly in the air, stagnating as my body dissolved, melting and disintegrating from my skin down through my bones. My remains spread out over the carpet, causing a stain worse than any blu-tack. I wonder if my next of kin will have to pay a stupid fine for this. (Sorry dear parents.)

Death was supposed to be instantaneous, explained my Assassin, the Death Shroud as she introduced herself. As I gasped my final words I found out that she was studying English, and obviously had far too much time on her hands. The fourth and final moral of this tragic demise, dear children, is that you must tear yourself away from that essay or those lecture notes, and go out and kill. Don't let those slackers and part-timers get you first.

(No offence intended whatsoever; I just haven't been spending enough time at the bar.)

Tuesday 24 October

Krimson gave David The Blade Pickavance an early present:

At 19:28 on the 24th of October 2000, the eve of his twenty-first birthday, David Pickavance was brutally gunned down at the door to his room. He had just been for a birthday curry for his mum and spoken to his Gran but the tall dark stranger in the sandals payed little heed to this and shot him four or five times in the chest from point blank. A sad loss to us all.

Krimon explains his generosity:
I have succesfully ridden Cambridge of another class eneny: David Steven Pickavance. I had thought out a cunning plan in order to gain access to his hostel. Just when I was about to press his buzzer I noticed that the front door was open. Hm. I then located his room and knocked on his door. Someone opened the door and foolishly confirmed to be David. It was his doom, not even a few misfires of my gun could save him.

Captain Penguin has sinned against Richard Murray (Axis):

Name: Captain Penguin
Commandment: 6th
Violations to Date: 1
Confession: I confess: I am an incompetent no longer. The first among many lies dead by my hand, he of the name Richard Murray. Was this act, I hear you ask, done in a fit of rage? Nay, not so - I planned, prepared and plotted. After many aborted attempts on the life of the erstwhile Mr Murray, which he thwarted, the wily dog, with the ploy of not being in, I strode through the halls of St John's College towards his room and prepared to spill blood. Hopefully his. I knew from reconnaissance work that from a certain spot near the bins of the Cripp's Building one could survey his room, so I went to this spot and saw, for the first time, a light at his window.

When I arrived at his rooms door I unleashed the actor residing within me, and slipped fully into role as "Joe" the history student (my research work among his neighbours had informed me that this was his subject), and I shouted, confused "Richard?"
My target replied in the affirmative.
"It's Joe"
"Joe - Ben said I could borrow your history notes from the last lecture"
The door opened a fraction but I could tell I was up against no fool - he himself was invisible. I deduced he was behind the door, and so leapt at it, flailing my tristy sword, Cathy, wildly around it. A scream of pain and I thought I had him, but no "Just an arm wound", he yelled. But without his arm holding the door shut I could more easily get around it, and after a brief while my sword reached his gullet and he slumped, dribbling blood, to the floor. The deed was done. His last words were along the lines of "you couldn't have chosen a worse night - I have an essay to write". And with that, I was gone.

Contrition: NONE.

The sadly departed shade of Axis imparted these details:
Tuesday night and I am frantically trying to find new ways to tear out my hair, and sometimes even doing a bit of the reading i should have done over the past week for my essay to be handed in in about 14 hours time. There's someone calling my name at the door, like a fool I answer, someone mumblers something about history notes and I open the door cautiously - out of habit rather than any thought of danger. But it's too late! I don't recognize the person as they shove hand through the door as I slam it shut. A lethal scything blade chops down and takes my arm off. Although this was only a flesh wound and I'll get better, it limits my ability to bolster the splintering timbers of my door. He slashes again and again and eventually cuts me open across my chest. My last thought as I slump to the floor was how wasted my last hours had been learning about Pope Innocent III....

Richard has joined the police force

Pub meet: 7pm Friday at King Street Run on King Street. Further details and safe zone will be posted later.

Wednesday 25 October

Johannes Krimson Nordstrom's attack on White Knight went horribly wrong:

Today the revolutionary cause lost a great follower: me. For the umpth time I went to see my target. This time it seemed like I would finally get to kill him. When I arrived at his room some guy speaking in a mobile phone told me that my intended victim was upstairs and would probably be back pretty soon. So I waited in his room until someone came in and upon being asked, identified himself as the target. It occured to me that he did not look quite like on the matriculation photo, but hey, that was taken over a year ago. So I promptly shot him anyway. Then the guy with the mobile phone came in and stabbed me. Ah well. I never was very bothered about revolution anyway, I was mostly in it for the carnage. So I'll happily join the state's instrument for repression: the police force.

An innocent victim was the casualty during an assassination attempt on Archangel by Leon:

It was a normal Wednesday afternoon, and Archangel is having lunch at the buttery. The Italian food in most colleges have improved, and Archangel congratulates himself on his contribution to the students of the university. He asked his supervision partner to open a letter for him, Archangel too hungry to stall his lunch by the time taken to open and read a letter.

As Archangel picked up his utensils, he noticed that his supervision partner turned pale and then started to say something, but no words came out if his mouth. Archangel then realised the significance of the letter, but it was too late. Archangel could not touch his supervision partner to sooth his departure to another plane of existence. With his last breath, he whispered ," at least now you have personal attention during supervisions."

Silence. At least he finished his lunch, thought Archangel. He left the cyanide-laced letter on the dining table, without care that the letter might kill any unsuspecting civilias. But being the good assassin he was, he returned to the table and disposed of the letter with care.

Leon. The assassin-who-kills-assassins'-supervision partner. Be afraid. Be very afraid. Be very, very afraid. Be very, very, very afraid. Why don't you just drop dead of fear?

For letting his friend open his mail, Muhammad Archangel Esa is now Wanted for endangering innocents

Thursday 26 October

Lucy The Purple Pixie McWilliam was turned red by Dave Hammond

Further quotations from the book of Wowbagger, vv. 66-82 (annotated):

Wyll, Wyll, Wyll, Whyt Have We Here?
(go on, get on with it)

Here Bee Storied Thee Snuffing Of Thee Purple Pixie
(the Purple Pixie has been accutely pixillated)

Ae Faerie Of Thatte Hue Betwyxt Blue Ande Redde
(she was Purple, and especially so after the Rigor Mortis set in)

Whoe Ventured Into Ae Tavern of Ille Repute Ande Goode Reporte
(she went into a common drinking establishment)

70 Butte As Punyshmente Forre Herre Dallyeing Inne These Dens

Was She Situated Inne Thee Proxymytee Of Thee Wowbagger
(...she sat at the table right next to me)

Thys Sprytte Did Moste Strayngelee Proclayme Herre Allegence
(and said quite loudly that she was an assassin)

Ande Mayde Knowne Herre Unsully'd Virtue Ande Signifycante Naivette
(she said she hadn't assasinated anyone yet)

Thee Vysage Of Thee Pixie Was Marked Welle By Thee Wowbagger
(I looked at her)

75 Herre Ascendence Was Made Ymmtnent
(and decided to kill her)

Ae Yseless Dyspensor Of Projectyles Was Playced Ynne Herre Vycinytty
(I cunningly put an gun on the table)

Ande Yea, She Spaketh Wordes Of Questionnyng Unto Thee Wowbagger
(what's that? she said...)

Yette Taketh She Thee Fyrearm Ynto Herre Hands
(...but picked it up and tried to fire it)

For She Came To Knowe Thee Luger Of The Wowbagger
(it was a really tastefully striped rubber-band gun)

80 Ande Thenne She Came To Knowe Thee Other Luger Of The Wowbagger
(another, loaded, weapon was pointed at her)

Ae Multytude Of Bullyts Didde Perforaete Ande Ventylate Herre Bodyee
(which now resembles a purple collander)

Thence Dyd She Shuffle Offe Thyse Mortal Coyle.
(the tavern was thoroughly redecorated in purple)

Thus Endeth Thee Tayle Of Thee Dave Of Hammond Fore Now.

Archangel succeded in his bid to murder Chief Wowbagger before succumbing to his own poison gas.

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon. Archangel was still trying to get over the death of his supervision partner by Leon's poison letter. Archangel vowed to avenge his death, but the thought of being on the Wanted List enraged him even further He knew that he would not survive very long.

Archangel went back to his room and equipped himself with an arsenal of weapons and poisons as well as a gas mask. His first target: PC Patrician. The PC's doorknob was laced with cyanide and his corridor filled with nerve gas. Not content with this, Archangel went to the toilet and filled it with nerve gas after closing the windows. The whole landing of PC Patrician was gassed, as well as the toilets and doorknobs of staircase C and staircase D, except for the top 2 floors.

PC Patrician found the contact poison. On his hand. May he rest in peace.

Archangel then decided to assassinate the Chief of Police. He had trouble finding Cromwell Court and decided to return later. He went to the relevant staircase at Emmanuel College and gassed the toilets and doorknobs, as well as the main door handles of the all the rooms on the staircase, especially the rooms where PC Random Lee and PC Ekhanpilt lived.

PC Random Lee reports:
PC Ekhanpilt and myself were the attempted targets of poisonings this afternoon. Having previously warned him that we were likely targets but five minutes earlier, I was in my room when I heard the sound of gas being released into my room. Fortunately my gas mask was to hand, and I managed to put in on before the gas reached lethal proportions. I only had one gas mask, and to my anger, the evil assassin killed my girlfriend. I watched in horror as her skin blistered, her limbs swelled and finally her arteries burst, leaving blood, skin and bones where once she had sat. I must avenge her death...when Hulk get angry, Hulk get MAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!!

Archangel then headed towards Cromwell Court, and found the corridor where the Chief of Police lived. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. All 3 of the Chief's neighbours came out and saw Archangel with his gas mask. They were puzzled of the appearance of a person in a gas mask, but not too long after regretted of not having one. They died smiling.

The Chief of Police then appeared, wielding his Benelli M4. Archangel instantenously sprayed the whole corridor with poison gas, the whole volume of the gas rushing towards the Chief of Police. The Chief of Police managed to shoot Archangel's left arm before retreating, but succumbed to the gas.

Pain. Agony. Death. Goodbye, cruel assassins' world, thought Archangel as he nursed his injured arm. Archangel then realised that it was only a flesh wound, and rejoiced at his triumph of assassinating the Chief. Archangel mentioned this to the dying Chief, and at his dying breath, the Chief said, "but you took off your gas mask, so you'll be dead as well".

True enough, at the pause between 'mask' and 'so', Archangel felt the effect of the poison in his bloodstream. Archangel started to recall all the moments, all the times that he has been in the world of assassins. At the final thought of having finally a good Italian meal, Archangel slumped to the floor, knowing, after reincarnation, he'll be a more experienced assassin.

Chief Wowbagger (deceased) reports:
Well, I was busy parking my bike when I spotted an unknown person entering Cromwell Court (not the same person, it turned out, as the dodgy character who was hanging around the night before). So I carefully checked my weaponry was in place, and then went around the back to effect a rather more subtle entrance. I ascended my staircase with my gun drawn and, lo and behold, the unknown character was in my staircase with his back to me.

Oh goody.

I went in, and he turned round. He had something weapon-like in his hands, so I shot (inaccurately, I fear) at the same time as he sprayed his deadly gas (for that is what he held).

Mmmm.... Fragrant...

It turned out that he had already sprayed the gas about a bit beforehand, killing my three neighbours in the process (he'd also poisoned the lock on the toilet door, but this was quite obvious to a veteran toilet-poisoner), however I shot most promptly upon entering (ie before breathing), so we assumed that we had both died. He then realised that I had shot him in the arm, and was hence still alive. Regretably, he realised this after removing his gas mask...

Oh dear.

There are now five corpses in Cromwell Ct, all sporting wonderfully blue skins, but sadly lacking in the respiratory department.

Index * Week 1 * Week 2 * Week 3 * Week 4 * Week 5 * Week 6 * Duel