Brave Agents of LIGMA, I bear grave news. I have discovered a most terrible threat, that drastically overwhelms any threat faced in the first game, in order to keep scaling that power level.
Not only are there imposters in the United States of Cambridge, Cambridge itself has an imposter. Located in the alien proxy state known as "The United States of America", it even has a pair of proxy universities, formed by the Martian Infiltration Troop, and Hybrid Army Raiders: Vth Agressive Reconnisence Division. These are believed to have trained many of the imposters that walk among us.
As such, this dramatic sequel will feature new threats in new lands, as I attempt to travel to this "America", and identify key targets from this So Called "Cambridge".
As I speak, I am currrently boarding transportation to take me to this faraway land, as well as to achieve a new record, the Gerton award for furthest kill from Cambridge.

This evening, a drama unfolded in [Redacted]. Myself, The Defect MA, Pingu, and Corvo somewhat agreed a pact to emsure peace in our college. We shook on this in a [Redacted] kitchen at maybe 11:30. Pingu then left the kitchen.
At 11:55pm, in a ferocious attack, The Defect and myself were attacked by foam projectiles (of the Nerf type) in the very same kitchen. Pingu, a member of the pact, assassinated The Defect, and I was taken out by BulbousBicycle. This happened quickly, and dogtags were transferred.
They have sown the wind, they shall reap the whirlwind.

"Right," said Laura, "let's go track down this bounty."
"Are we sure we're going to the right place?"
"No, but do we have any better ideas?"
"We could go and actually try and kill people?" suggested June. This suggestion was met with scorn by the rest of the Menagerie.
"Who, exactly, is the leader of this squadron?" Laura asked, giving the assorted creatures what she thought was a withering stare.
"Lucy."
Laura sighed slightly. "And who, exactly, did Lucy delegate command of field missions to now she's enjoying her well-deserved semi-retirement?"
"Well, you, but - "
"Then you will obey my orders and not incessantly question them."
"But I'm hungry," protested Lola.
Laura sighed again, in the manner of one who thinks herself surrounded by idiots but is in fact not significantly more competent than those under her command. "And how is that my problem?"
"You're her commanding officer, so it's your responsibility to - "
"Shut. Up. We will buy food, and then we will hunt the bounty."
One short detour to Mainsburys later, the agents were on the move towards the suspected location of the bounty.
"Should we set a watch?" asked Lily. "You know, in case we're followed by enemy agents?"
This was an eminently sensible suggestion; unfortunately the fact that it had been proposed by Lily meant that Laura couldn't accept it without losing face in front of her subordinates. "That won't be necessary," she said. "Quick march, everyone."
"Uh, I'm a cactus. I don't have - " Unfortunately for June, the Menagerie paid little regard to basic biology. Despite being a cactus, she did in fact have legs and was hence capable of marching. She wisely shut up before Laura pointed this out to her.
"I'm still hungry."
"And? We bought food, didn't we?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"But what?"
"But," said Lily, "we haven't actually eaten it yet."
"We are on an extremely vital mission on which the future of the Menagerie and the very Universe may depend. Time is of the essence in reaching this bounty before anyone else. And you want to stop and have a picnic?"
Laura stared incredulously at the rest of the crew. They were all nodding. "All right," she said, "let's have a picnic. And when the Universe is destroyed because we're late, don't say I didn't warn you."
So they sat down beneath a tree and picnicked, largely in silence: all of them could tell that Laura was in one of her moods, and the first rule of surviving the Menagerie was to not talk to Laura when she was in one of her moods.
"Uh," said Lizzy nevertheless after a while, "those people over - "
"Shut up."
"But they're acting suspiciously - "
"If I have to tell you one more time - "
"He has a - "
"All right, that is it - "
There was a sound approximately like that you would hear if a lizard was viciously impaled by a wooden spoon. It was caused by a lizard being viciously impaled by a wooden spoon.
" - spoon," finished Lizzy, the offending instrument protruding from her back.
And that, other than much arguing about whose fault it was, was the end of the Menagerie's first attempt at bounty hunting. It would regrettably take Lizzy precisely four hours to recover from her injuries, and the group had an extremely important party to attend after that, so it was also the end of their activity that day.
They would be back, though.

I walked into a room in college, expecting to watch a film, but the second I entered, multiple guns were pulled on me and I made a hasty retreat. I then snuck around the back of the room and crept up to the window through some flower beds. I gave it a few minutes for the targets to be distracted by the film again, and then shot BulbousBicycle through the window.

The imposter made a critical mistake: he sat on a park bench without a newspaper with eyeholes cut out.

"Whose idea was it to arrive a whole hour early?"
"Are you questioning my judgement?" asked Laura.
The level of disagreement with her leadership had not yet reached outright mutiny, so she was met instead with a wall of stony glares.
"I need the toilet," muttered Lola.
"It's twenty pence. We are not paying to use the toilets."
That, at least, was a sentiment the group in general approved of, so they waited, perched on a bench: the cover of bushes behind them, clearly set out paths in front. They would be hard to ambush here.
"What was that?" asked June. "Something scuffling in the bushes - "
Lizzy, fully recovered from her horrific injuries of the day before, turned around to check and rolled her eyes. "That, June, is a woodpigeon."
"Oh," said June meekly.
They waited some more. Other groups of people sat down on the benches around them; the group twitched a few times before realising it was nothing.
There was a loud sound and then a slight scuffling. They whipped around to face... a large crow, watching them with its head tilted to one side in the way birds do.
"Do you want to get shot?" asked Laura conversationally.
The crow gave no response. After a little while it flew off.
"That guy," said Lily after a pause. "Doesn't he fit the description of - "
"Yes," Lola agreed eagerly, "and he's carrying a weapon as well!"
The guy in question strolled past them, scanning the area. They tried to watch him without looking like they were watching him, a task at which they failed spectacularly.
"Stop it," Laura snapped. "We might as well be holding a sign announcing that we're assassins."
"Won't he recognise us anyway?" asked Lola. "After the incident a few months ago - "
Another silence so heavy you could have used it to crush someone.
"Incident," said Laura slowly, "a few months ago. Pray, enlighten me as to the nature of this... incident."
"There - there was no incident," Lola stuttered.
Lily took mercy on her. "Why don't we just shoot him?" she asked.
"We're here to disrupt the handover," Laura explained with thinly-veiled impatience. "That means we need to get the other one as well."
"That guy over there is definitely an assassin," June pointed out.
He was, too; he would advance a few steps, glance around to check no-one was watching, and then withdraw the tip of a weapon from his bag.
The group's vantage point was good enough they could clearly see the movements of all the assassins in the area and their target. No sign of the second target yet, though.
They watched passively as the first assassin was ambushed and shot by a trio of others, and then Laura said: "Let's move."
"What's the plan?" asked Lola.
"Kill everyone."
This was the sort of plan the members of the Menagerie liked, and they executed it with surprising efficiency. The one who'd remained with the corpse first, still hidden behind a tree.
Their stealth failed them as they advanced up the hill, with a stream of fire directed at them. It didn't reach far enough to hit them; they returned fire and exchanged it for a few seconds until the enemy slipped and fell in the process of running to get a better line of attack.
Being the sympathetic, honourable, kind-hearted assassins they were, they shot him in the chest. And then they shot the third assassin, even though they hadn't raised a weapon throughout the encounter. And then they shot the corpse the others had made, just to be thorough.
Then they began the important process of looting the corpses and gaining valuable resources and intelligence.
"We should actually complete our assigned mission," Lily pointed out.
The second agent had arrived for the handover; neither of them reacted to the barely-supressed sounds of murder behind them, so the monkeys, lizard and cactus simply shot them in the back.
"Run," choked out one with his dying breath.
Sound advice; the carnage they'd left in their wake would soon attract unwanted attention. They looted the corpses first, naturally.
Unfortunately, some members of the Menagerie (for instance, those who were cacti and thus not designed for running) weren't particularly fast on their feet. That meant they only made it a few streets before hearing running footsteps and watching bullets whistle past their heads.
"Run!" screamed Lily.
"Return fire!" screamed Laura.
"Aren't those the people who stabbed me yesterday?" remarked Lizzy casually.
"How exactly is that relevant to our current situation?"
The general instinct amongst the group seemed to be to return fire, so that was what they did, dodging bullets flying at them from precisely two directions and closing in on one who looked weaker than the other for -
Ah. The other of them had just shot June in what would have been the stomach if cacti possessed stomachs.
"Retreat!" called Laura. They did, frustrated by how close they'd come to a complete success but still better off than they had been. And with a burning desire for revenge against this "Robbie:)" character.

Fantomas strolled into the [Redacted] JCR unarmed. A fatal mistake, as I was waiting armed playing board games. I hit him with several shots from my gun - he fell to the ground, his body bleeding, his soul burned to ashes by these dying embers.

"I'm tired," Lola complained. "I don't want to do this."
"It's important," said Lily and Laura simultaneously; then they shared a look of mutual self-loathing for agreeing with each other.
"If we don't do this," Laura went on, "we stand no chance of succeeding in our objectives."
"Do we stand a chance of succeeding in our objectives if we do?" asked Lizzy.
"A greater chance than if we don't," Laura snapped. "Now get your weapons, let's go."
"Question," said June.
"Dismissal of your concerns," said Lily.
June wisely ignored that, and asked instead "Where exactly are we going?"
"That information is classified."
No-one quite dared to ask further questions, so after much time checking their guns, particularly from the more reluctant agents, they set off to their classified destination.
But they'd barely got outside the town which contained their base when they spotted someone familiar going in the opposite direction.
"She's on the list - "
"Should we - "
"Shut up, she'll notice!"
She didn't notice, somehow; she just kept walking and passed through the gate leading into the town.
"Change of plan," Laura announced. "Let's kill her."
"Because we definitely had a plan to change from," muttered Lily.
The group were not exactly stealthy; cacti weren't that good at walking quietly, and Lizzy was complaining about something to do with the original plan. Still, they weren't noticed until they got within range and away from witnesses, and then it was just a matter of unloading their guns into their victim.
"Did that... work?" asked Lizzy.
"Evidently."
"But that - we're not supposed to succeed! That's not how it works!"
It took them far too long to realise that they should probably leave before the corpse attracted unwanted attention. And even longer to get over the fact that that unwanted attention hadn't arrived.

These dying embers had now grown to dancing flames. Perhaps this was not the end for them after all. Not yet, not before one last blaze of glory. One more soul was all it would take to get to the final battle. There was only one viable option, the fire knew it. No, not her. She was a friend. I couldn't possibly betray her, having taken her under my wing. No, she was mere fuel for the fire. I bought her a gift on my way to her door. The least I could do was let her die happy.
The door finally opened. Two hands behind my back. She picked right, and I presented the gift. A smile spread across her face and she slowly realised what it was, and that it was hers. She picked left, and I presented a gun.

I took a laborious breath, striving to steady my trembling hands as I fiddled with the mask, tucking strands of my amethyst hair into the gaps beneath it. It had felt like an eternity since I was ripped from reality by those loathsome trespassers, Elon Zuckerberg and Skeld. They had scrutinized my DNA samples before depositing me, haphazardly tossed beside my the samples I had so carefully collected, into what I could only describe as an alien... preparation chamber? It bore an uncanny resemblance to a combination of a Dystopiaverse waiting room and an eldritch conjuration hall. It did nothing to placate my fraying nerves.

I rolled my commander blaster in my palm, its newness still foreign to me. This tempest of violence bore little similarity to the regular assassination games I knew, and this gun had yet to prove its worth. Intriguingly, a good portion of my gathered DNA samples didn't arise from player elimination, but were clandestinely acquired from the mundane world.

How idiotic I had been to believe the LIGMA ruse! The pathetic deez nuts joke was just the sort of juvenile humor my friends Mike H. Oxlong (the H stands for Hawk) or Candice would relish. Perhaps you are familiar with them? Their director of studies is Professor Desmond (Dee) Snuts; they're ardent students of Bofa; their favorite pokemon are the evolutions of rhyhorn, taillow, and machop, as well as the pre-evolutions of swalot and magcargo (the names escape me, direct message me at @_xanos_ to remind me); they hail from Sugon and are fluent in Sugondese; their computer systems rely on sakkon drives; and, most alarmingly, they have both recently fallen ill with sugma.

My sigh echoed around the room as I surveyed the terminals at my back. Upon my arrival, they'd stripped me of all offensive gear, leaving me armed only with my blasters: two hammershots, a disruptor, and a commander. Each terminal screen displayed a unique image - a gleaming blade, a feral creature, a gleaming bullet - alongside a slot, seemingly designed for a DNA sample. Hovering ominously above was a countdown timer, which caused my heart to leap into my throat as I noted a mere 120 seconds remained.

With hurried grace, I snatched the DNA samples and sprinted to the terminals. My mind whirred as I processed the imagery; it resembled some sort of combat vending machine. Was a confrontation imminent?

I immediately dismissed the feral creatures. I doubted my ability to direct such unpredictable creatures whilst focusing on the precision of my shots. The knives presented an enigma. They were an essential last resort if one exhausts their ammunition, yet bullets were the bread and butter of most victories.

A flash of realization struck: bullets could double as makeshift knives! I inserted my DNA samples into the terminal one by one, and as each was accepted, a bullet clattered onto the floor. I gathered all eight and then faced my second decision: which weapon to wield? Hammershots excelled in rapid-fire scenarios as you could discharge two simultaneously. However, their accuracy faltered at range, reducing them to close-quarter or attrition-based tools, which led me to disregard them. The disruptor was standard issue, compact, yet it lacked the precise accuracy of the commander, from my experiences. Dual-wielding seemed an unlikely strategy, so I loaded the commander.

I swiveled towards the alien door, the countdown timer ticking its final five seconds. The moment was upon me. The impending confrontation was about to commence. A gust of wind, dramatic and seemingly out of place indoors, tousled my hair in a manner reminiscent of a movie poster.

As the timer reached zero and the door silently slid open, a desolate landscape and a thunderous roar of an audience met me. I stepped forward into an arena, encircled by towering stadium walls and a flat, barren field of dirt. The spectators were unmistakably not human. These reptilian beings were the spitting image of the grotesque aliens that Skeld and Elon Zuckerberg had revealed themselves to be. My eyes widened behind my mask as I gazed skyward. There was no sky, only the cosmos, peppered with stars and distant planets.

My gaze shifted back down, narrowing as I locked eyes with the lone entity sharing the arena with me: Parson's Farewell. She brandished a solitary yellow blaster.

"FIGHT!" boomed a voice, echoing across the arena.

I drew a breath, reached up to my mask, and gave it a tug. With a swift snap, the strap securing the Vendetta identity to my face broke.

I turned to confront my attacker. She rushed at me as I maintained my stance. I held the tactical advantage, an upwind position and a slight elevation. It would be unwise to surrender such benefits.

Additionally, I recognized her weapon, a strongarm or a variant thereof. From prior encounters, the strategy was simple: hold the line, exchange fire until the strongarm jams, then advance and unload.

Bolstered by the wind at my back, I stood firm, barely shifting as the strongarm discharged two shots. On the third, nothing. Parson's Farewell appeared as bewildered as I was. It seemed her weapon had jammed.

With limited ammunition in my possession, I advanced, firing calculated shots. On the third attempt, I scored a direct hit on her torso. She collapsed, a cough echoing from her as she hit the ground, the crowd's roars reverberating in the background.

I turned as Commander Skeld and Elon Zuckerberg emerged from the jubilant crowd. Confusion seized me as they took and raised my hands in celebration and the cheering reptilian crowd watched. Suddenly, I felt a needle pierce my neck and darkness claimed my consciousness...

...

I awoke with a yawn, stretching as I rubbed the remnants of sleep from my eyes. What a vivid dream. Extraterrestrials? An invasion? The constructs of my mind were indeed extraordinary. I reached for my phone, noting it was only the onset of May week. I had a whole game of assassins to play, and it was about to begin! I didn't want to miss out.

Hastily, I rose from bed and changed into fresh clothes, packing my bag with my nerf guns: my disruptor, the pair of hammershots... and the new commander I recently bought!

Finally, I opened my top drawer, my hiding place for my wig and mask. I picked them up, but a sudden frown creased my forehead. Since when had my mask's strap been torn?