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Dress code: black tie. Complementary bullets.

Postby Amorphous on Sat Nov 25, 2006 2:42 pm

Jess smiled to herself as she made final preparations for her mission. By her count, she'd made two kills already and Wessex had made three - only one kill lay between her drawing level with Wessex as Master Assassin, and then another to surpass him. If she'd been lucky in who her targets were then she'd have been able to eliminate him directly; regrettably, however, that option had not been presented. Others would have to die instead.

She took one last look at her target's photograph before heading out. If her sources were correct, he'd be in a position where defending himself would be difficult.


Elsewhere in St Andrews, Spadge Mince adjusted his tie in his bedroom mirror and sighed. While there was something clearly very right about an assassin dressed in black tie it had numerous practical problems, the greatest of which being nowhere to conceal a weapon. He'd tried a shin-holster but it quite clearly ruined the line of the trousers and at worst made him look like he had a very peculiar growth.

He'd just have to wing it, and hope that the idea of killing someone at a ball was just too unseemly for the noble assassin.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Picking up the nearest available revolver, he edged up to the door silently and peered through the peephole, seeing only a silhouette of someone who had perfectly positioned themselves in front of the light. Cursing inwardly, he opened the door a crack and then ducked back immediately, narrowly avoiding a bullet in the face. Instinct took over as he threw open the door and shot his assailant six times, emptying the chamber.

His opponent quite thoroughly dead, Spadge Mince relaxed. Hopefully he could enjoy the rest of the evening now.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Wild Bill on the prowl again

Postby Amorphous on Mon Nov 27, 2006 12:00 pm

With replacement weapon in hand and the determination not to be forced into the same desperate measures as last time, Wild Bill lurked inside the Purdie Building and waited for his target. This time he'd been well-prepared and was in good time to catch his target out even if he arrived very early or very late to his lecture.

That is, if he turned up at all.

An hour passed. Concluding that the opportunity had gone, Wild Bill sighed and began to pack up his gear. It would have to happen some other day.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Pegasus goes flying, briefly

Postby Amorphous on Mon Nov 27, 2006 11:17 pm

As Pegasus walked the corridors towards his destination, his features set into an expression of grim determination. There had been far too many nights of sitting at home polishing his shuriken and waiting for his luck to come through. It was time to seize the opportunity. Armed with the knowledge (and aforementioned shuriken) that his target was a regular attendee of the event he was proceeding to, and that his target would have to be there before a certain time, Pegasus had set out from home with one aim in mind. Third attempt had to be the charm, surely.

Getting past door security had been easy - evidently they weren't expecting trouble. As he settled into the nearest available chair and started scanning the room for his target, he allowed his brain to pick up on the background chatter in the room.

A few moments later an overheard comment caused Pegasus to stand up, scream in frustration, and throw himself out of the nearest (closed) window. Chatter in the room immediately ceased as various committee members stood up and gave thanks for the fact they were on the ground floor. There was a pause as everyone stared at each other in bewilderment.

Eventually the silence was broken by one attendee. "What was that you were saying?" he asked another. "I've forgotten."

"Mmmm?" responded the second. "Oh, I was just saying that Andrew can't be here tonight. Apparently he's got some other thing on that he can't get out of."

The first nodded and turned back to the broken window, then to the screen onto which a television episode was being projected, unattended. There was further pause while he considered the situation, and then eventually a verdict: "If that guy didn't like 'Excel Saga', he could've just said."
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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High Stakes, Low Profile

Postby Amorphous on Tue Nov 28, 2006 12:54 pm

The air was tense between the circle of players sat around the table, eying each other up with the combined paranoia and cynicism of an assassin and a poker player. A quick glance around the table would reveal an impressive gathering: world-renowned Master Assassin Red5, the assembled ghosts of Arkansas Dave Rudabaugh, Jess and Big Suze, and the still-alive forms of Wessex and Bullet_MaGnEt. Already tensions in the room were running high, following accusations earlier in the evening that certain players had been using otherworldly powers to cheat.

Wessex, in particular, watched the others with deep-seated suspicion. He couldn't imagine any of the ghosts trying anything, and in any event wasn't sure that they were capable, but Bullet_MaGnEt was an unknown. He'd recently disappeared from the various news bulletins only to be replaced by Wessex himself, a fact that had made Wessex's stomach turn when he first heard of it. Where he was now, he knew, was safe - but it was almost certain that if he stepped out the front door he'd get a bullet in the back.

The solution, then, was not to leave by the front door. Concluding that he'd won as much money as he was likely to for the night, Wessex waited until the end of the current hand and then excused himself to go to the bathroom. There he turned on one of the taps to make some cover sound and leapt from the bathroom window before landing heavily on the ground outside. Fearing the other players inside may have heard the noise Wessex fled for his life, choosing alleys and backways at random in his effort to escape until he was quite thoroughly lost.


Inside the house, Bullet_MaGnEt checked his watch impatiently. Something was up, a time delay like this was beyond that of the humble human bladder. Taking his weapon, he went to check the bathroom door.

A moment later, and in great haste, he re-emerged in the living room. "Get the car!"


It was midnight as Wessex staggered back to the entrance of his place of residence, where he spotted a familiar figure and instantly dropped to the ground. Without a doubt, it was Bullet_MaGnEt, apparently in the middle of an argument with the door security. Taking cover behind some nearby foliage in the darkness, Wessex peered out and tried to figure out what, specifically, was going on. It appeared that Bullet_MaGnEt was trying to enter the building but the security guard was having none of it. Frustrated, Bullet_MaGnEt walked back to the car and drove away, his headlights narrowly avoiding illuminating Wessex on the grass.

Wessex let his body relax for the first time in many hours and let out a sigh of relief. Somehow, he'd made it through the night alive.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Wesses Has Nine Lives

Postby Amorphous on Tue Nov 28, 2006 7:57 pm

Weary and sleep-deprived from the night before, Wessex found himself trying not to doze off through his morning lectures. Last night had been thoroughly unsettling, and this morning it felt like his entire body was struggling to respond to even the most basic commands while simultaneously his mind, particularly his paranoia, was working overtime.

Lectures passed in a soporific blur and as Wessex filed his way out with his fellow students he found himself wanting nothing more in the entire world than to fall into bed and sleep, to forget everything for a few hours.

As he approached the lobby of his residence, Wessex found himself tensing. Just the memory of last night? No, it was something else - something specific. Someone was waiting inside who was not supposed to be there, someone who was not a resident. Swinging his bag in front of him, Wessex pretended to dig around for an item while surreptitously reaching for a weapon and hiding it behind the rucksack.

As he entered the building, Spadge Mince turned around and settled Wessex's suspicions into certainty. His body tensed further, and as Spadge Mince drew out his gun and fired Wessex found his fine-tuned nerves responding with unnatural speed. He ducked and heard the window behind him shatter in the same instant. Without thinking he fired at his opponent through the rucksack, puncturing a folder and a pencilcase in the process but nonetheless hitting his target. With a gasp, Spadge Mine dropped his weapon and slumped forwards.

Wessex straightened up and sighed. Sleep would be very, very good.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Acidburn neutralised

Postby Amorphous on Tue Nov 28, 2006 7:58 pm

Somewhere in the Physics Building, beyond the ex-shop and the Duck-In Kaleidoscope, Wild Bill lurked. This one was going to be straight down to business, he decided. Walk up, stab, walk away. Or possibly run away. Assuming his target showed up.

In the meantime he attempted to entertain himself with nearby Things in glass cases. He had no idea what the Things were, but apparently they had something to do with physics.

Shortly a crowd of budding young physicists began to gather and Wild Bill took the time to check each one as they arrived, staring at their reflections on the glass. There - was that him? It was hard to tell from the reflection and from the back of his head, but the newest arrival standing, foolishly, with his back to Wild Bill looked promising.

Surreptitiously, Wild Bill turned his head to look at the student directly. Yes, Acidburn. It could be no other.

Still engaged in animated conversation with his friends, Acidburn had little time to respond as suddenly he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and a knife working its way through his back. With one hard twist, Wild Bill withdrew the knife and stood back, watching cautiously as his victim fell to the ground. Reaching for his gun, Acidburn had just enough time to turn his head to look at his attacker before losing consciousness.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Posts: 458
Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Wessex Has Nine Lives

Postby Amorphous on Tue Nov 28, 2006 8:00 pm

(Re-posted so's to get everything in chronological order. Yes, I'm that pedantic.)

Weary and sleep-deprived from the night before, Wessex found himself trying not to doze off through his morning lectures. Last night had been thoroughly unsettling, and this morning it felt like his entire body was struggling to respond to even the most basic commands while simultaneously his mind, particularly his paranoia, was working overtime.

Lectures passed in a soporific blur and as Wessex filed his way out with his fellow students he found himself wanting nothing more in the entire world than to fall into bed and sleep, to forget everything for a few hours.

As he approached the lobby of his residence, Wessex found himself tensing. Just the memory of last night? No, it was something else - something specific. Someone was waiting inside who was not supposed to be there, someone who was not a resident. Swinging his bag in front of him, Wessex pretended to dig around for an item while surreptitously reaching for a weapon and hiding it behind the rucksack.

As he entered the building, Spadge Mince turned around and settled Wessex's suspicions into certainty. Instantly he tensed, and as Spadge Mince drew out his gun and fired Wessex found his fine-tuned nerves responding with unnatural speed. He ducked and heard the window behind him shatter in the same instant. Without thinking he fired at his opponent through the rucksack, puncturing a folder and a pencilcase in the process but nonetheless hitting his target. With a gasp, Spadge Mince dropped his weapon and slumped forwards.

Wessex straightened up and sighed. Sleep would be very, very good.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Posts: 458
Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Bullet_MaGnEt Repels Luck

Postby Amorphous on Wed Nov 29, 2006 11:13 pm

1pm, Wednesday.

As Bullet_MaGnEt settled onto the bench, he kept a watchful eye on the busy street in front of him. Assassins might be very diverse in their methods, their weapons, their way of thinking, but they did all have one thing in common: the need for lunch. If the information he'd received about his target was correct, he'd have to return to this area to eat.

Eventually.

A full hour later, Bullet_MaGnEt was beginning to get bored and more than a little jumpy. After several successive occasions of passers-by reaching for potential weapons that turned out to be perfectly ordinary house keys, Bullet_MaGnEt decided it was time to call it a day. Having survived for an hour on a bustling street was victory enough in itself.

And while he was there, he might as well use te opportunity to duck into the weaponsmith to stock up.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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An explosion of excitement for October

Postby Amorphous on Wed Nov 29, 2006 11:29 pm

As October worked at his desk in his study, there was a sudden thunderous knocking at the front door. Instantly suspicious, he grabbed his lightsabre and went to investigate; ensuring that no-one was waiting for him on the other side, he carefully opened the door and peered out, then left and right, and then down.

A small box looked back up at him in a manner that was possibly supposed to look innocent. And then beeped.

Fearing a bomb, October hurriedly closed the door and retreated to the far wing of the house. A minute passed with no form of explosion. Approaching the front door slowly, ready to turn again at the slightest sign of danger, October realised he could no longer hear the beeping. As he watched, a shadowy figure crossed in front of the window and stopped at his front door briefly before running away.

When October next checked, the beeping box was gone and he could find no sign of anyone on the land around his house.

Failed bomb? Teenage prank? Very peculiar door-to-door sales technique? It was impossible to tell, but enough to make October very wary. Locking the door thoroughly, he returned to the study.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Wild Bill goes... um... wild

Postby Amorphous on Thu Nov 30, 2006 9:58 pm

Somewhere in the bowels of Andrew Melville Hall, in a darkened room, a trio of men had just finished plotting. As Wild Bill peered across the gloom at his two accomplices, he smiled to himself and then nodded to one of them. "Make the call."


Elsewhere in St Andrews, October's own plotting was interrupted by a phone call from an old friend: "Hey, October, it's me. I just got a tip from a friend, I think I know where Wessex might live. Meet up with me at Andrew Melville in about half an hour and I'll take you there." Before he could answer, his friend had hung up and already October could feel the adrenaline buzz setting in. This was going to be a showdown. Grabbing as many weapons as he dared carry, he fled from his room and ran towards Melville as fast as his feet would carry him.


Back in Melville, Wild Bill made final preparations with the aid of a curiously well-armed friend. Sword? Check. Back-up sword? Check. Witty one-liner to reel off with perfect timing at the moment of death? Well, he had a little more time to work on that one. Hopefully something would come to mind by then.

He nodded to his friend to indicate he was ready and together they set out, aiming towards an unoccupied room in the building. A plan such as this required a stake-out.

Unbeknownst to either of them, they were being watched. Having arrived at Melville early, October had paused outside to admire the architecture and instead noticed some suspicious goings-on through the floor-to-ceiling corridor windows. That man, there - wasn't that Wild Bill? What was the deal with his friend? Where were they going?

Sensing a trap, October continued towards the building much more guardedly. It was unfortunate to have to take the risk, but time was running very short; if he didn't get Wessex tonight, there would be consequences. He'd just have to hope for the best.


By the time October had met with his contact, Wild Bill and his well-armed friend were well-positioned and waiting. Now all that remained was to wait for his other accomplice to lead October to the empty room, have his well-armed friend provide a distraction and sneak up on October while he was confused.


As he walked the corridors October found the smile on his friend's face wasn't quite comforting, but his thoughts were cut short as suddenly his friend drew to a halt and pointed to a bedroom door. They had arrived. Apparently.

Nodding to his friend and taking a deep breath, October stepped forward and tightened his grip on his gun before knocking on the door.

There was an answer - but from behind.

"Hit Squad! You've been caught bearing an offensive weapon in a public place!"

October released the gun and turned slowly to find himself facing the end of a gun and a Hit Squad badge, each held by a serious-looking individual. Well-armed, too.

As October opened his mouth to explain that he had no weapon in sight, he heard a shout in the corridor behind him...


Wild Bill frowned to himself as he lurked in the stairwell, straining his ears for sounds in the corriror. There was the sound of knocking on a door, and then some muffled shouting from his well-armed friend. The distraction was in place. He nodded with satisfaction to himself, drew his sword and charged from the stairwell with a yell. October had just enough time to turn in confusion before being stabbed through the chest.

Standing victorious of the body of October, Wild Bill's moment of glory was cut short by a nagging feeling at the back of his brain. Looking up, he noticed the Hit Squad badge and then the mixed expression on his friend's face.

Ah. Oh. Not good.

Before either of his friends had a chance to react, Wild Bill seized the initiative and ran them both through with his sword, thus ensuring there were no witnesses to the crime.

Alone in the corridor and now slightly blood-soaked, Wild Bill looked down at the bodies with a sense of worry. This had not been part of the plan.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Bullet_MaGnEt Repels Bullet

Postby Amorphous on Thu Nov 30, 2006 11:45 pm

Bullet_MaGnEt was resting in his room when suddenly there was a knock at the door. Suspicions automatically peaked and he glanced at the clock. 8pm: too late for cleaners and too early for guests.

Approaching the door carefully, he opened it suddenly and then jumped back.

A bullet flew past and embedded itself in his computer screen.

Fearing counter-attack, Wessex fled and was out of range by the time Bullet_MaGnEt had readied his gun.


(Note: It has dawned on me since posting that I have now, essentially, made the same headline-joke twice. I think this one is better.)
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Posts: 458
Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Blast Kills Three, Police Quite Irritated

Postby Amorphous on Fri Dec 01, 2006 2:00 pm

As Joe Everyman walked along the beach, he smiled to himself with simple satisfaction. Until very recently, a lot of things hadn't been going his way - friends suddenly disappearing, sighting of rabies-infected monkeys, gunmen sneaking into hospitals. The last one had cost him his job as a security guard, and that had merely been the beginning of the trouble.

Still, no point in dwelling on all that now, it had become irrelevant. An internal hearing at the hospital had found him in no way responsible for the incident, so he'd got his job back. The latest reports were that the rabies-infected monkey had been captured and was, in some vague and ill-defined way, repaying the community. While he was still concerned about some of his missing friends, he'd been named in the will of another to receive enough money to pay off his debts, so he was no longer in risk of losing the house. And after a heartfelt talk with his briefly-estranged wife, she had realised that leaving him was a terrible idea and moved back in, bringing their young daughter with her.

Yes. Life was good.

As he continued to walk along the beach, hand in hand with his wife, he saw his daughter running towards him in a state of great excitement. As she got closer, it was clear that she was carrying something.

"Daddy, Daddy! I found this in the sand! What is it, Daddy?"

Joe took the object from his daughter and turned it over. From the looks of things it was some sort of fancy Christmas card; if the lump between the pages was anything to go by then it was the kind that 'sang' at whoever opened it. It seemed a little odd, but he was in too good a mood to question it further, and curiosity demanded that he open the card.

There was no singing. Frowning, Joe began to shake the card gently, wondering if the battery in it had died. As he stared, a red light on the small black electronic pack started flashing and there was a quiet whining sound - low at first, but steadily increasing in pitch and volume.

Joe's last thought was that it was the sound of something charging up.


Barely an hour later, Chief Constable Smith looked down at the carnage and sighed. In all his years in the force, he'd never seen such senseless violence.

"Chief!" called out one the younger and more excitable policemen from behind him. "We got what you were looking for."

Chief Constable Smith turned to be presented with an ice cream cone, vanilla, missing a chocolate flake.

"They said they were out of 99's, sir," the younger policeman explained apologetically. "I can go back and interrogate them further if you want."

Chief Constantble Smith shook his head, looked down at his snack and sighed. In all his years in the force, he'd never seen such senseless ice cream.

"Oh... Chief... we also found this," the young policeman continued, taking out an evidence bag. Smith took it from him and stared at the contents, what appeared to be a small, charred piece of card. Peering through the soot, he could just make out of the words 'From your friend, Bullet_MaGnEt'.

Ah, a lead. This was much more like it.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Posts: 458
Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Incident in the Whey Pat

Postby Amorphous on Fri Dec 01, 2006 6:14 pm

Somewhere in St Andrews, there is a bar with a very select clientele. It is notorious among locals, and new students quickly learn of its reputation; those who don't tend not to survive long. It is not a bar you venture into unless you know you can hold your own in a fight.

As Wild Bill walked in he nodded to 'One-Eye' Dave and Tattoo Steve, the barmen, and immediately headed to the back room, the space set aside for clients who particularly wanted to remain undisturbed. Entering the room he chose a table in the second-darkest corner to think long, murderous thoughts over a pint.

Across the way in the very darkest corner, Pegasus stared levelly across the table at the people he had come to euphemistically know as 'business contacts'. "We need the merchandise out of Fife by midnight tonight and out of Britain by Tuesday," he said sternly. "Our friends in Japan don't like to wait. If the stuff is late, they're going to get... angry."

One of his associates nodded seriously, then leaned forward. With perfectly measured tone and facial expression, she announced, "I think you should know that the man who's just walked in is watching us."

Pegasus knew better than to turn and stare, and knew his associate well enough to trust her judgement. "Undercover police?" he asked in a low, conversational voice.

She shook her head. "He's not watching us. He's watching *you*. And he's carrying a gun. When I give you the signal, run. We can finish the job ourselves, we know what we're doing."

Pegasus nodded and tried to surreptitously reach for his shurikens. It would be good to be prepared.

His female friend began to look slightly alarmed. "He's getting up. Go!"

Going from sitting to sprinting in an instant Pegasus charged towards the nearest exit, hearing shots ring out behind him. There was a sharp stinging sensation as a bullet grazed his shoulder and embedded itself in the nearby wall. Into the main room now, Pegasus found himself overturning tables in his bid to escape, finally making it to the entrance.


Back in the back room Wild Bill reholstered his gun as he watched his target escape, then noticed the raised eyebrow from One-Eye Dave. Gunfights were considered poor etiquette in this pub. He'd probably have to find a new bar to lurk in from now on.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Pegasus spreads his wings

Postby Amorphous on Fri Dec 01, 2006 6:30 pm

Once outside, and noticing that the gunshots had ceased, Pegasus began to slow down and turned around to check that he wasn't being followed. Instead he came face-to-face with Wessex and another gun, this time of the dihydrogen monoxide reveolver variety. Instinctively Pegasus hurled his shurikens, but the last-second twinge in his newly injured shoulder ruined his aim and caused some of them to go off-target - only one fully struck Wessex, wedging itself in his abdomen, while another glanced off his arm. At the same time, Wessex fired but darkness, wind and a moving target made the intended deadly shot go wide, striking Pegasus just below the chest.

Both seriously injured, each assassin decided to abandon their duel in favour of crawling to medical facilities. This fight, and all other fights, would have to wait until they'd recuperated.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Posts: 458
Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Lights On But Pegasus Not Home, reports Wild Bill

Postby Amorphous on Fri Dec 01, 2006 9:31 pm

Wild Bill surveyed the arsenal in front of him and smiled.

He had his binoculars, his magazines, his camouflage and his weapon. And, most importantly, snacks. He was officially prepared for a stake-out.

Unfortunately it seemed he was missing the one final ingredient: his target. After an hour and ten minutes of watching people buy tartan Nessies and shortbread and other touristy nonsense from the shop below, Wild Bill was forced to concede that Pegasus probably wasn't home. Another time, maybe.

Folding up all of his equipment into one impossibly-small briefcase, Wild Bill slipped away.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Posts: 458
Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Bullet_MaGnEt perforated

Postby Amorphous on Sat Dec 02, 2006 6:20 pm

Bullet_MaGnEt crept around Andrew Melville Hall cautiously. He'd heard word that there was a centurion in the building, and the idea of a Roman commanding officer going about was more than a little unnerving. Having made it to the bathrooms okay, his task was now to make it back to safety in the same incident-free manner.

There was the sound behind of him of someone trying - and failing - to draw a weapon silently. Instantly he spun around and fired off a volley of shots, most of them hitting his opponent, but he still wasn't quite fast enough - a single shot to the stomach knocked him off his feet as suddenly the whole world seemed very, very painful. With great effort he lifted his head to check his opponent: dead, if that many holes and that much blood was anything to go by, and with the toughened appearance of a Hit Squad member.

The increasingly urgent pain in his stomach suggested to Bullet_MaGnEt that calling an ambulance might be a good idea. If he were lucky, he'd probably be able to drag himself to a phone in time.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Posts: 458
Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Bullet_MaGnEt Continues To Selfishly Cling To Life

Postby Amorphous on Sat Dec 02, 2006 6:32 pm

Bullet_MaGnEt felt his somehow still-beating heart lift as the row of telephones came into view. It had taken a lot of crawling along corridors in a trail of blood, which the cleaners were not going to thank him for, and also falling down a flight of stairs but against all odds he'd made it and remained conscious.

A flicker of motion in the far left of his vision made Bullet_MaGnEt flatten himself against the floor - moreso than he was already - and draw his weapon. There, Wessex: still bandaged up and looking quite poorly. He'd spotted Bullet_MaGnEt too and winced as he reached for his gun, clearly not wanting to exert himself if he could possibly avoid it. Simultaneously they opened fire, but extreme pain meant both parties were just shooting at random, unable to aim. As all shots went wide, Wessex fled the scene, possibly in search of a place to lay low and recover.

Bullet_MaGnEt sighed and continued his slow journey towards telephonic salvation.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Some spice with your wine?

Postby Amorphous on Mon Dec 04, 2006 11:30 am

Evening of Saturday 2nd of December.

Wessex relaxed in a Victorian armchair by the fireside in the company of good friends, letting the heat, the flickering light and the babble of voices around him soothe his nerves. It had been a rough couple of days, but his injuries were well-enough healed that they no longer posed a serious obstable to ordinary day-to-day activities, such as killing people.

As the butler came around with the mulled wine, Wessex gladly accepted a glass and mused to himself that tomorrow morning would be a return to form.

He sipped at the wine gently, cautious of burning his tongue, and then frowned to himself. Odd. He was by no means an expert on mulled wine having only had it once or twice before, but there was an aftertaste to this one that he was fairly certain wasn't supposed to be there. Maybe one of the ingredients had gone bad.

He nudged the nearest available friend to get their attention and then passed the glass to them. "Does this taste strange to you?"

His friend, apparently in wine-tasting mode, sniffed the drink carefully and then took a big gulp. "Blergh," he declared.

Wessex nodded and attempted to flag down the butler. "Hey! Hey, you!"

The butler turned and, having spent all morning practicing, raised an eyebrow. This was Eyebrow Raise #42, 'One Does Not Appreciate The Way In Which You Have Just Addressed One'. He was a butler of the Old School. "Sir?"

"Who made this wine?" Wessex demanded. "It's gone bad."

"I believe that glass was prepared specially for Sir by a Mister Bullet_MaGnEt several days previously, sir."

Wessex opened his mouth to ask what exactly 'prepared specially' meant but was distracted by a choking noise from behind him - his wine-tasting friend appeared to be in some distress, and it was getting worse. Before Wessex could offer any kind of medical help he found himself also beginning to cough uncontrollably. Falling forward onto his hands and knees, he saw drops of blood begin to appear on the carpet and then simply red smears as the whole world became blurry, eventually losing consciousness.

Staring down at Wessex and his friend impassively, the butler performed Eyebrow Raise #23, 'Implied Disdain At A Distasteful Event'. Apparently it was time to call the coroner.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Bullet_MaGnEt STILL not dead

Postby Amorphous on Mon Dec 04, 2006 12:05 pm

Bullet_MaGnEt carefully slipped through the backroads and byways to Tom Morris Drive, trying to maintain a low profile. Wessex may have been his rival, yes, but he was also a worthy adversary and it would be a callous assassin who did not personally pay his respects to such an opponent. Even if it was a bit of a suicide run, so soon after the crime and with a severe injury that was yet to heal.

When he arrived he could see the area was still crawling with the Hit Squad. Unfortunately, a blue flashing light illuminated his own face briefly and this caught the attention of a nearby Hit Squaddie having a rest outside. Standing up slowly, the Squaddie frowned in Bullet_MaGnEt's general direction as he tried to make something out in the darkness. If eyewitness repots were anything to go by, the man lurking behind the fence may have been the same man who killed a Squad member the night before. Killing of colleagues made Hit Squad members somewhat angry, and without a second thought or calling for back-up the Squaddie charged towards Bullet_MaGnEt, vaulting the fence as Bullet_MaGnEt turned and ran.

The chase continued down Tom Morris Drive, neither man willing to give up, and as both men started firing on each other the person writing these stories got fed up and decided to implement a surrealist Deus Ex Machina plot device by actually taking part in the story herself.

"For goodness' sake!" the Scribe exclaimed frustratedly, looking up from her desk.

Both men lowered their weapons in confusion, looking at the sky with worried expressions. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

"Look, this is the second time you two have faced off and the result has been utterly inconclusive because you both think they other one died first," the Scribe explained. "That's incredibly frustrating from a story point of view. I'm on strike until you actually have a definitive kill. I have rights!"

Storming off, she left the two men to stare at each other in bewilderment before wandering away themselves.


[Author's Note: Firstly, many thanks due to the Umpire for the Deus Ex Machina idea. Secondly, I'm not actually angry but there really are only so many ways you can write 'they both shot at each other but nothing happened' and even fewer ways in which you can make it sound funny and/or interesting. It's frustrating! Thirdly, I'm not actually harbouring resentment towards Bullet_MaGnEt as the titles of all these reports might suggest. I'm just saying: he's like a cat!]
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

Bullet_MaGnEt Sees Red

Postby Amorphous on Mon Dec 04, 2006 9:12 pm

Reclining in a hideout that could only be found by those who know where it is, Red5 frowned and switched off the television. The latest news report had been... concerning. Specifically he was concerned about the Wanted notice, but not for the ordinary reasons: assassins shouldn't be drawing attention to themselves like this. It was how organisations got discovered, disbanded, destroyed. Circumstances such as these demanded that retired Master Assassins come out of hiding, for the greater good.

Making his way over to the weapons cabinet, Red5 began to stock up.


An hour later he was at Bullet_MaGnEt's door, having concocted a vague story about giving tips, and as the door began to open he only just spent enough time to confirm the identity of the opener before taking out a handgun and squeezing the trigger.

The movements of his finger were accompanied by the sound of nothing happening. Quickly, Red5 wondered to himself when he'd last used the gun and mentally slapped himself for assuming he would have left a loaded gun lying around in the first place. Apparently he was more out of touch than he'd thought.

After a few moments it dawned on him that Bullet_MaGnEt was shooting him in the chest repeatedly. Red5 looked down vaguely at the holes in his shirt and then back up at Bullet_MaGnEt before shrugging. He'd have to work with what he had: strangulation would work too.

Bullet_MaGnEt, having seen Red5 take approximately ten shots to the chest and apparently utterly unfazed by the ordeal, did what any sensible assassin would do and ran. Taken by surprise, Red5 fell behind faster than he would like to admit to his friends down the pub and eventually gave up, sitting down on the nearest available ledge.

Carefully, he unbuttoned his shirt to see how much damage the bulletproof vest underneath had taken. Even if he'd screwed up on the small matter of ammo, at least he'd got one thing right.
If Jack Bauer was put in a room with Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler and Nina Myers and handed a gun with two bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.
Amorphous
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Posts: 458
Joined: Thu Nov 18, 2004 11:25 am

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