Forum Assassin Discussion thread
- Thread starter Gorny1
- Start date
second hint: my target is not a pal...
and I'm anxiously waiting for him to stick his head out...
and I'm anxiously waiting for him to stick his head out...
Yes, I know this is late. I'll be working on more later.
IntelligentX/Thyiad
Thyiad leaned back in the driver's seat of his car and stretched lazily, then looked down at the umbrella lying next to him. The KGB never had one this good, he gloated to himself, and fingered the recessed button on the handle with a smile. Even before Aragorn had fallen ill, he had known that there was bound to be a battle for power eventually; with or without his brother's influence, Gorny could be held in check for only so long. And now, with the conflict finally at hand, he was ready.
Using cyanide instead of that stupid ricin makes this thing so much better, and who cares if people knows I killed him? Thyiad smirked, then let his breath out in a hiss as he noticed IntelligentX walking out of the bank. All right. Showtime.
Opening the car door, Thyiad played his sight over his mark, noting the bag he carried in one hand and the stylish coat slung over the other. Seeing a bulge near the other's belt, he nodded confidently as he eased himself into the flow of foot traffic. The fool's hands are full; I'll get him long before he can draw that.
Smiling, Thyiad strolled casually towards his target, thumb resting ever so gently on the weapon's hidden trigger as he began to bring its tip up. He was still smiling when IntelligentX spun, the jacket over his arm falling away to reveal a small but deadly-looking automatic nestled in his hand, and fired.
* * *
IntelligentX stepped over to the grinning corpse, eying the neat scarlet hole in its forehead. His eyes then jumped to the umbrella at his feet, and after a moment spent studying the object, he stomped on the handle, hard. At this, the umbrella's tip popped open in a rush of compressed air, sending a small metallic pellet bouncing out against the asphalt. So he was out to get me, he thought, and then shrugged. Oh well, hardly matters either way... With that, IntelligentX turned away, twirling his pistol around his finger, totally oblivious, or perhaps all too aware, of the horrified stares chasing after him as he walked off into the sunset.
IntelligentX/Thyiad
Thyiad leaned back in the driver's seat of his car and stretched lazily, then looked down at the umbrella lying next to him. The KGB never had one this good, he gloated to himself, and fingered the recessed button on the handle with a smile. Even before Aragorn had fallen ill, he had known that there was bound to be a battle for power eventually; with or without his brother's influence, Gorny could be held in check for only so long. And now, with the conflict finally at hand, he was ready.
Using cyanide instead of that stupid ricin makes this thing so much better, and who cares if people knows I killed him? Thyiad smirked, then let his breath out in a hiss as he noticed IntelligentX walking out of the bank. All right. Showtime.
Opening the car door, Thyiad played his sight over his mark, noting the bag he carried in one hand and the stylish coat slung over the other. Seeing a bulge near the other's belt, he nodded confidently as he eased himself into the flow of foot traffic. The fool's hands are full; I'll get him long before he can draw that.
Smiling, Thyiad strolled casually towards his target, thumb resting ever so gently on the weapon's hidden trigger as he began to bring its tip up. He was still smiling when IntelligentX spun, the jacket over his arm falling away to reveal a small but deadly-looking automatic nestled in his hand, and fired.
* * *
IntelligentX stepped over to the grinning corpse, eying the neat scarlet hole in its forehead. His eyes then jumped to the umbrella at his feet, and after a moment spent studying the object, he stomped on the handle, hard. At this, the umbrella's tip popped open in a rush of compressed air, sending a small metallic pellet bouncing out against the asphalt. So he was out to get me, he thought, and then shrugged. Oh well, hardly matters either way... With that, IntelligentX turned away, twirling his pistol around his finger, totally oblivious, or perhaps all too aware, of the horrified stares chasing after him as he walked off into the sunset.
In the thyiad/intelligentx thing people were talking about % signs, but I don't see any anywhere...
I'm thinking that sort of display may depend on your browser, which makes things difficult
I'm thinking that sort of display may depend on your browser, which makes things difficult
I think the problem is that in the original post it will show spaces, but when hitting the reply button the link gets parsed and the spaces are replaced with the percent signs. I think. Anyways, not sure how that should effect editing and such.
- Oct 18, 2004
- 4,342
- 254
- 83
I think Gorny checked, and found that when you do a standard quote, the spaces stay as they should. (I checked too, with the same result.) If you click on the link or mouse over it, your browser will add the %20 in place of space, but it doesn't affect the reply button.Cannon Fodder said:
hmmm btw, the quote in thyiad's post doesn't appear to have any reall daggers to me..
the poison dagger link has a slash directly behind it when I hover over it, or copy its location, which would make it invalid
the poison dagger link has a slash directly behind it when I hover over it, or copy its location, which would make it invalid
WAHHHH!!! :yikes:
I need a moderator! I need a moderator!
I didn't even know this thread existed yet!!
*sighs*
I need Gorny or Dredd to rearrange a few posts for me and RK, for some of the posts to make sense, please....
I will PM you guys about what needs to be added, PLEASE AND THANK YOUUUU!! :heart:
Again, I didn't even know the thread existed until today.
I need a moderator! I need a moderator!
I didn't even know this thread existed yet!!
*sighs*
I need Gorny or Dredd to rearrange a few posts for me and RK, for some of the posts to make sense, please....
I will PM you guys about what needs to be added, PLEASE AND THANK YOUUUU!! :heart:
Again, I didn't even know the thread existed until today.
Tool_Master/YogiRat
I really hate these damn clothes.
Sighing to himself, Tool_Master straightened the collar of his stained gray coveralls and hefted a matching toolbox out of his truck. They're a means to an end, he reminded himself for the hundredth time that morning as he pushed open the door to the apartment complex and began to clomp up the stairs. Let's see now, the fifth floor...aw, man...
On his way up, a man in a snappy business suit shouldered him to one side of the stairs in passing, glaring at him disgustedly. Tool_Master paused and watched the other brush off the sleeve of his suit as he descended; for a moment, he began to turn around, then shrugged and continued on. He'd be such a waste of time right now, anyway...got things to do.
After a few more minutes of climbing stairs, Tool_Master reached the fifth floor and turned right onto a hallway, checking the faded numbers painted above the doors. Apartment 537...bingo. He knocked, and after a few moments without a response, pulled a key out of a pocket and slid it into the lock, pushing the door open slowly.
"Freeze."
The quiet click of a revolver's hammer echoed loudly in the silence, and Tool_Master slowly raised his hands, eyes darting back and forth. After a moment, they settled on a black-clad man pressed up against the wall next to the doorway, holding a pistol in a sure grip.
That was fast. "Just the plumber, sir," Tool_Master said cautiously, turning slightly to get a better look at the other. Yeah, that's him.
"How did you get in?" YogiRat asked, fixing a stare that could burn holes in metal on Tool_Master.
"Landlord had a key, sir," Tool_Master answered.
YogiRat motioned downwards with his gun. "Put the toolbox down and open it, slowly."
Time to rock. Cautiously, Tool_Master placed his burden on the linoleum floor and flipped up the latches, then eased the box open. Inside sat a few tools of the plumber's trade: some wrenches, a screwdriver and an unusually shiny plumb bob.
"Step over there, and keep your hands up," YogiRat ordered, and Tool_Master began to comply.
At that moment, neither one of them was looking at the toolbox.
"Now-" YogiRat's words disappeared as a wet, meaty splortch, loud in the near-silence, rang out. A moment later, a heavy thump followed, and Tool_Master turned around, a smile on his face.
YogiRat lay facedown on the floor, the string of the plumb bob trailing from a bloody hole in the back of his skull. Shaking his head in amusement, Tool_Master held out a hand, his fingers bending ever so slightly, and the instrument pulled itself free from the corpse's head to fly into his hand. With a quick motion, he flicked off the blood and bits of brain, then fingered the platinum spike's tip. Looks a little dull...I should polish it today, too...
But before that, he had a man in a suit to find. After all, he wasn't busy anymore.
I really hate these damn clothes.
Sighing to himself, Tool_Master straightened the collar of his stained gray coveralls and hefted a matching toolbox out of his truck. They're a means to an end, he reminded himself for the hundredth time that morning as he pushed open the door to the apartment complex and began to clomp up the stairs. Let's see now, the fifth floor...aw, man...
On his way up, a man in a snappy business suit shouldered him to one side of the stairs in passing, glaring at him disgustedly. Tool_Master paused and watched the other brush off the sleeve of his suit as he descended; for a moment, he began to turn around, then shrugged and continued on. He'd be such a waste of time right now, anyway...got things to do.
After a few more minutes of climbing stairs, Tool_Master reached the fifth floor and turned right onto a hallway, checking the faded numbers painted above the doors. Apartment 537...bingo. He knocked, and after a few moments without a response, pulled a key out of a pocket and slid it into the lock, pushing the door open slowly.
"Freeze."
The quiet click of a revolver's hammer echoed loudly in the silence, and Tool_Master slowly raised his hands, eyes darting back and forth. After a moment, they settled on a black-clad man pressed up against the wall next to the doorway, holding a pistol in a sure grip.
That was fast. "Just the plumber, sir," Tool_Master said cautiously, turning slightly to get a better look at the other. Yeah, that's him.
"How did you get in?" YogiRat asked, fixing a stare that could burn holes in metal on Tool_Master.
"Landlord had a key, sir," Tool_Master answered.
YogiRat motioned downwards with his gun. "Put the toolbox down and open it, slowly."
Time to rock. Cautiously, Tool_Master placed his burden on the linoleum floor and flipped up the latches, then eased the box open. Inside sat a few tools of the plumber's trade: some wrenches, a screwdriver and an unusually shiny plumb bob.
"Step over there, and keep your hands up," YogiRat ordered, and Tool_Master began to comply.
At that moment, neither one of them was looking at the toolbox.
"Now-" YogiRat's words disappeared as a wet, meaty splortch, loud in the near-silence, rang out. A moment later, a heavy thump followed, and Tool_Master turned around, a smile on his face.
YogiRat lay facedown on the floor, the string of the plumb bob trailing from a bloody hole in the back of his skull. Shaking his head in amusement, Tool_Master held out a hand, his fingers bending ever so slightly, and the instrument pulled itself free from the corpse's head to fly into his hand. With a quick motion, he flicked off the blood and bits of brain, then fingered the platinum spike's tip. Looks a little dull...I should polish it today, too...
But before that, he had a man in a suit to find. After all, he wasn't busy anymore.
I need to have some way to add 2 posts before RK's Cattelya/Dracoy post.Dredd said:
~EDIT~
Or if RK doesn't mind, add it into his post.
KyubiNaruto said:
Feel free to add it to mine, though honestly, I don't think it's a huge deal if the story's out of order. I mean, that's the way it is, and we can rearrange it into the right progression after the game's up if you want to tell the story (and that even assumes we get to all the kills and lead-ins...not a given right now.)
Is this about my post that I got my target? because I was referring to the fact that I received the pm with my target, I didn't kill anyone yet, in contrast to my target, who did draw blood this game...
ps: I hope you did see my message concerning my weapon of choice and my appearance (black frock, scythe-wielding)
ps: I hope you did see my message concerning my weapon of choice and my appearance (black frock, scythe-wielding)
Ohhh.... :banghead:RevenantsKnight said:
Im such an idiot, I was so caught up in getting the story we came up with to make sense, I forgot that we could just do something about it afterwards... :dunce:
Okay I'll post my pieces here.
NOTE: These pieces were meant to be BEFORE Knight's "Cattelya/Dracoy" post.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
On one rainy summer night, the Boss, known only as "Aragorn Elessar", suddenly fell ill and lay on his death bed. The followers of Aragorn, known only as "The Forumites" stood around him in his room watching, awaiting the last words of wisdom to come from his last breaths. Then finally he opened his eyes slightly to look around the room; everyone who he wanted to address was present, all the forumites except his evil twin brother. All his brother had ever wanted was power, and to control the organization's contracts, ventures, funding, and black ops once Aragorn was gone. Aragorn's brother now had his chance, but since he was not present, Aragorn could appoint a new leader, someone whom he could trust and leave the entire fate of the forumites in their hands. With his brother absent, it would be a safe bet to appoint anyone in the room.
As Aragorn finally lifted his head to speak, his advisor and co-founder of the organization, known only as Dredd, came to his side. He should not be getting up, Dredd thought; Aragorn had only but a few moments left to live, and Dredd said that he should not waste his words on the unworthy. Other forumites of the organization came closer to his side, closer to the bed. Then, just as Dredd let go of his head and hand, Aragorn fell back on his pillow, his eyes starting to close again, and his body feeling heavy. He knew if he had closed his eyes this time it would be the last time, and then - sleep. The eternal slumber he had been awaiting, but it felt too soon; Aragorn was too young. For someone at the head of an organization, he was not as old as he acted, still aging, with plenty of time to live his life; he hadn't even had a family of his own, but was now awaiting death. Aragorn knew deep in his heart that he was probably dying from foul play, for leading such an organization had made him many enemies.
Some in the room began to cry, and others started to walk out, but in the end Aragorn had passed on and his body was taken away before his last wishes could be realized. Everyone present that night sat in the foyer; all of the captains of the organization were there, and they were all wondering the exact same thing.
These people were all divided into divisions, and there were 20 divisions, respectively belonging to the 20 captains in the room. Some were followed by subordinates behind them, others preferred the solitude, and doing the work themselves. The organization that Aragorn had led could only be called one thing, "Organization XX", and they did everything from little jobs, to odd jobs, to messy jobs. None knew each others' real names; once they joined the organization, they were given code names, and that was how they were known... For life.
Finally, breaking the silence, the captain of the 11th division stood, Codename: Superdave.
"I'm sure we have all been sitting in silence, grieving for our lost boss, but I know we are all considering the same question," he began.
Everyone looked up at Superdave, some with puzzled expressions on their faces.
"WHO... Is going to take over? Is the Organization going to live on?" he asked, bringing everyone's attention to him.
Just then, the door slammed open and everyone turned to look; it was Gorny! Gorny was Aragorn's brother, and the one person that he didn't want to have the organization under his control! He gazed at everyone in the home, aka the headquarters, puzzled.
"Why is everyone in my house?" he asked.
"This is not your home, Gorny!" Dredd exclaimed.
"Well, let's see here: according to my dear brother's will, I take total control and own EVERYTHING, should he happen to croak." Everyone looked at one another, shocked and in disbelief at what he said.
"THAT IS A LIE!" One of the advisors stood, Codename: Qbi.
"Oh, is it? My cute little fox..." He smiled, and Qbi looked away in disgust.
He pulled out of his shihakush? his brother's will and everyone came up to look. Dredd pulled it out of his hands, "T-T-This must be some kind of forgery!" he said in disbelief.
"No, Vice-Commander... I'm afraid it isn't..." said another captain from behind Dredd, Codename: Xenon.
"Are you sure?" Qbi asked.
"There is no doubt about it; I've worked with government issued papers and forgeries, and that doesn't seem like a forged will. If it is, it is a damn good one!" Xenon said, almost impressed.
"I only know of one way to settle this ladies and gentlemen..." Gorny began again. "You all don't want me to become the boss... And I want you all out, and this for myself..." he said with his arms raised, pointing around the room. "Has anyone ever heard of the saying: Only the strong shall survive and inherit the earth, whilst the weak crumble at their knees?" Gorny asked.
"I believe you mixed up a couple of different quotes...actually..." Qbi said, hesitantly.
Gorny looked up, snorting like an enraged bull, and with one swift, fluid motion, he grabbed his sword from his side and threw it at Qbi. A clank of metal was heard, and then the sword fell to the ground, deflected by someone's gauntlet; it belonged to Aragorn's "right hand", Codename: Revenant's Knight, but to everyone familiar with him, he was just "R.K.".
"Look here everyone! I propose a little 'game'..." Gorny said, now frustrated at the group.
"A game!?" Dredd said, disgusted at how he seemed to be taking control so soon after his brother's death.
"The rules are simple: we have the best of the best of me and mine, do battle with yours." Gorny explained. "Sound simple... Co-Commander?" he continued, grimacing.
"Hmph! If it's a battle of skill you want, the organization would take down you and your followers easily!" Dredd said confidently.
"Oh no no... This isn't some off the cuff wrestling match... When I said the "Best of the best" of each of our people, I meant--"
At that time three people were killed instantly behind Dredd, two cloaked figures on the roof shrouded in black jumped down; his lieutenant's body cut from the right shoulder to the left side of his hip, blood staining the ground and Dredd's coat. Two of his subordinates stabbed through the back of the neck by short sharp objects, almost like daggers, but foreign in nature. The two shadowed assassins scurried towards Gorny, the two small blades in the one's hand, while the other, leaving his weapon impaled inside Dredd's lieutenant, now occupying the floor behind him. The killings had only lasted but a few seconds, not enough time for everyone to even notice the three men were dead until the sounds of their bodies thumped on the cold floor. But why Dredd's lieutenant, and not Dredd himself? Dredd and Gorny had never gotten along - It was most likely that Gorny wished to savour Dredd's death.
"I meant... That in the end... THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!!" He started laughing maniacally as he strolled out the door of the mansion.
Everyone stared at each other, wondering who would turn on who first, who would be the one to have satisfaction of killing Gorny, who would inherit everything.
But before Gorny was out of sight he turned and said a few final words, "All of the captains will receive letters tomorrow... The rest of the game will be explained to all of you involved."
One of the captains, Codename: Dracoy, in a rage picked up Gorny's sword on the ground next to R.K. and threw it as hard as he could out the door towards Gorny.
The assassins following Gorny quickly turned, and proceeded towards the object, preparing to intercept the weapon in the air. Gorny motioned his hand out from his side, giving the command to halt.
The assassins froze in their tracks, the sword passed them and Gorny whisked it out of the air, and quickly sheathed it.
He smiled at the group, turned, and continued down the stone road of headquarters as a car pulled up, the sound of the vehicle drowned out by the weather. Gorny and the assassins got into the vehicle, the rain produced a cloak to help them vanish into the night.
____________________
In the morning, the rain had cleared, and the sun had dried away everything. The air was crisp and clean, though headquarters was deathly quiet this morning; it seemed only Qbi and R.K. were present. The rest had gone home the night before, but these two had no home; this was their home, even after Aragorn's death, and it was their duty to keep the place in shape...even if that meant cleaning up the bodies and blood stains from the night before. Poor Dredd... He knew Gorny had been gunning for him; it was only his forumites who had been killed last night. Gorny could have had the order to kill any three people in the room that night, even Dredd himself, but he chose his subordinates, and Dredd was now alone. He had no protection left, and could trust no one but himself, or at least that was how he felt when he had received Gorny's letter that morning with his tea and toast.
Letters were delivered to all of the captains of Organization XX, just as Gorny promised. Some reading it as soon as they woke up, some ignoring it, feeling a sense of dread just from the sheer look of the envelope. The letters were in your standard "A-Series" envelopes, these were mainly used for announcements, small booklets, distinctive business announcements and the like. Dredd was the first to open his envelope; Gorny had made it fairly clear that he had wanted the pleasure of killing him, so a letter bomb was out of the question. Dredd knew Gorny, and a letter bomb wouldn't be his style; he was a backstabbing trickster, but he wanted to see the face of the person, when he killed them. To Dredd's shock the envelope was filled with pictures and documents, as well as a note from Gorny personally that read:
Every one of you has received the same package.
See for yourself: there are no loyalties here.
In the end there can be ONLY one.
Dredd's eyes widened as he dropped his toast and wrestled through the papers and pictures, smudging butter on everything. There was enough dirt on everyone in the Organization; with this, Gorny's plan was put in motion. This would definitely be a ticking time bomb waiting to explode in someone's face.
With this information, everyone had to make sure everyone else didn't turn around and open their mouths. But it wasn't that simple: Gorny had said, "every one of you has received the same package." There was no point to even talking to another person in the Organization now; everything on everyone was here, and what the documentation didn't say, the pictures provided with images of Bingo books, back alley meets, adultery, drug rings, contact information, secret alliances, overseas arms deals, contracts.
Just then, Dredd had noticed one picture... It was of one of the captains, Codename: Madmachine. He was secretly meeting with Dredd's luscious red headed fiance to be. On top of that, the back of the picture had a personal note from Gorny: If you think this is bad, you should hear about the conversations they had about KILLING you!
That was too much for Dredd; for once, he agreed with Gorny. He stood from the breakfast table in his home, grabbed his tea and threw it across the room, and banged down on the table with his fists, cracking it. The porcelain cup shattered against a picture of his woman on the wall, tea running down the wall, staining it. The picture of one of his captains with his love crumpled in his death grip-like fist. If this was what Gorny wanted, he would get it, but it would go his way. After secretly killing everyone in the organization, he would then go after Gorny, killing the root of all of his newfound sorrow, hatred and grief. And then he would rebuild, create a new organization, one worthy of his late friend, Aragorn Elessar. Dredd thought to himself, In the end... There will only be ME.
The Captain, Codename: Dracoy, didn't take his envelope quite as emotionally as Commander Dredd. In fact, when he opened his standard A-Series envelope, he opened it with a smile, almost as if "looking forward" to the "game". First, he read Gorny's note and then tossed it aside; next, he dumped the rest of the contents onto his bed. He noticed right off the bat what the envelope had contained, and knew that a good percentage of it was his betrayal to the organization. He quickly grabbed everything off his bed and ran out his bedroom door.
Making his way downstairs, he grabbed his keys from the table and rushed into his garage. He knew someone would be looking for him right now, and his home wasn't safe; he had to leave, get as far away as possible and gather his thoughts for some kind of counterattack. If he stayed, he knew someone would come looking for him, and if that someone was from the organization, they would be pissed.
He dumped the papers and pictures into the passenger seat of his Lexus RX350, which he had bought with the money he made from all the backstabbing. In his frustration and haste, he could barely focus on putting the key in the ignition. It took him three tries of jabbing the ignition, and then finally, success! He turned the key, placed the vehicle in reverse, and hightailed it out of there.
A few kilometers later, he looked in his rear view mirror and noticed a black, ominous-looking vehicle looming a few cars behind him. He then looked above the car to see his house one last time, and right then, it happened.
A large explosion erupted from within the house, engulfing everything in and around it in flames as shrapnel and embers began to rain over the neighbourhood. His hunch was right; someone was out to get him.
Dracoy damned himself for not being able to wake up when the envelope had first arrived. He had set his alarm quite early, but the snooze button had always been an available friend to him. This kind of work had to have been the organization's; they couldn't afford to keep someone like him around, as his loyalties were now questionable. He looked in his rear view mirror again, and the 'ominous' car was still there, but was slowing down to make a turn into a fast food lot.
Dracoy let out a sigh of relief, it was just some black car with tinted windows... he thought to himself. He had seen plenty around where he had lived, the kids these days and their "cool cars." He had just been imagining things, with all this stuff about the organization falling apart coming out of nowhere. He turned onto an offramp and proceeded towards the north highway, heading for his private stash of money, guns, and other "Organization Paraphernalia", AKA his summer home. It was just on the other side of town in a hidden neighbourhood. It was where he went when he told his girlfriend that he was leaving on business for the summer.
Dracoy looked at his tank, 'hmmm... quarter...' he thought to himself. He felt he deserved a break and he was a good distance from his home by now, or rather, his smouldering hole in the ground. Whoever was after him had most likely thought he was dead, so he pulled into a gas station.
Dracoy pulled out some of the papers while filling up his SUV; this part of the city looked familiar, and he felt he knew someone who resided around here. Then he found it: it was an old contact of the Organization. If there was anyone who knew as much as he did about Organization XX, it was this man. 'No one would kill him, he was a neutral figure in this "war,"' he thought. 'I suppose I can go ask him if he knew who tried to kill me... Or I suppose the better question would be if anyone had been accessing the Organization contacts, funds, and supplies. That would give me an idea of who is actually serio--'
Before he could finish his thought, the gas started to overflow from the nozzle in his tank. Some girls laughed at him as he grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and wiped off the edges of his tank while trying to put away the nozzle, hands doused in gasoline. "Great...!" he said aloud.
Dracoy quickly went into the gas station, washed his hands and was then on his way. He had to make a bit of a turnaround if he wanted to go see the organization's informant, but he didn't mind; the guy was free information, and he would do anything to help him get the edge in this psychopathic frenzy.
Dracoy traveled west for a while until he saw the address he was looking for. The odd thing was that it was in just some ordinary neighbourhood; he had talked to the informant on the phone, but had never met him in person. Still, he had always assumed that he'd live somewhere different...
Google