AliasSheep

Cycle 4 is over! Cycle 5 is now up!

------------------------ Hidden Safehouse ------------------------ He thought he’d be safe here, the building was labelled Hidden Safehouse after all, but it had not helped, for even though he’d thought himself safe, they had found him, they had found him and cornered him, forcing him to hide himself away, stuck inside this wretched air vents, whose silvery metallic walls shone back any light made, blinding him, blinding his soul, and keeping him on edge, for, even though he knew he was alone in there, he could see every movement they made as they looked for him, the light passing through the occasional air vent and then ricocheting off the endlessly mirroring surfaces of the air vents, terrorising him even as he breathed in as quietly and as slowly as he could, making sure that the noise was almost silent, even as each movement of his diaphragm caused him to scream out in pain further, the wound in his side matching the pain from the bullet in his shoulder blow for blow, paralysing him and holding him, which, even though to his advantage, for he wanted to keep as still as possible so as not to be found, sent him into endless spirals of agony, making it harder and harder to keep his mouth shut and his voice inside, despite knowing that whatever meagre sound that voice made would give him up, would itself kill him, even indirectly, and he would be responsible for his own death, he would be responsible, for though it was them who was killing him, he was the one who let himself die, die, cramped in a small tube made originally simply for air, a place unfit for any human to go at all, let alone spend their last moments, which should be spent in a place of rest, of comfort, of friends, of family, of all those things that he could no longer have, of all those things which he longed for so much but his work pushed, but he pushed away, taking away any chance of happiness, though, he reminisced, that was irrelevant now, for what was happiness when one is about to perish to the ravenous fiends who haunt the world, following the orders of those who don’t even know better, like he himself once had, like he had continued to do so up until the point where they had tried to kill him for it, kill him, after all his years of dutiful service, the bastards, what right did they have, to take it away from hi- BANG. ---------------------------------------------------------------- > message begin I would like to take a few moments. OW Mi9 GO AWAY Anyway, a few moments to thank Agents Yiferien and Strider for their most vital support in my moments of need. The war is becoming more and more obvious, people. It is unavoidable, and these two agents have taken the brave move to take a side. Another, further note. Do not trust Mi9, no matter what they tell you. They are obsessed, narcissistic, and have recently developed a god-complex. They are dangerous. > message end -------------------------------------------------------------- The Mighty Lopen has been lynched! They were a Spy "Contacts" Vote tally: The Mighty Lopen (3): The Young Bard, A Joe in the Bush, Drake Marshall A Joe in the Bush (2): The Mighty Lopen, Magestar Drake Marshall (2): Assassin in Burgundy, Daniyah Amanuensis (2): Seonid, Arinian Cycle 5 has now started! You have 24 hours! Have fun! Player List:

> message begins Really? Pop culture references? You scoundrel! > message ends

------------------------ Location Unknown ------------------------ The mist floated down, settling in a thick layer going just past Dolan’s eyes. It was cold and wet but Dolan was used to it. What he wasn’t used to was being so constricted. He tried to move his arms, but pushed up solely against solid material. It was rough and scratched his skin. Dolan opened his eyes to see his face up against his knees. In the gap between them he could see a dark material, tiny fragments of rock sticking out of its dark stone surface for its entire length. It reached up into the sky and Dolan’s eyes followed it. There were clouds up above. He tried to move his arm again. He couldn’t move it. His finger brushed against water. His finger was wet. His feet were wet. He couldn’t move his feet. His shoes were gone. His socks were gone. Where was his shirt. His back hurt. He looked down. He was in water. The water was red. He. Could. Smell. Blood. He breathed. The light down here was dim and he couldn’t make much out, but there appeared to be cuts and bruises all along his legs. At least two of them were bleeding, the red liquid pouring round his leg and then dripping into the filthy water. Everything went dark. He looked up. There was something blocking out part of the light, a disc shape, like a moon against the sun in a solar eclipse. “How are you liking your stay, Mr Mist.” the voice called down. The person cackling. Dolan recognised the voice, but he couldn’t quite place where from. His head hurt and he couldn’t quite think straight and every other thought sent him back to a memory of spinning fast, in a car, he thought, making him want to throw up. “Are you not going to answer me, Dolan?” the voice called down again. Dolan tried to make a reply, but all that came out was coughing, mixed with specks of blood that spread across his knees and the wall like a modern art piece. “Ah, I see that you’re… preoccupied. Well, you seen conscious at least, which is a good sign. Do you remember why you’re here? I presume not. You likely haven’t the least of where here is, do you? Well, welcome to my lair, Dolan. Or at least, your little part of it. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like. Or as long as you don’t.” The person laughed to themself again, and then the light reappeared. Dolan shut his eyes tight again, the brightness from above blinding him, as the cloud seemed to have moved on. He struggled a little more. And then stopped. He tried again. It didn’t work. He opened his eyes. He looked around. Stone, everywhere. No escape. He breathed out again. ------------------------------------------------- MI9 Headquarters, WWMNBQ division ------------------------------------------------- The door before Stick was ajar, left open, showing a tiny room on the inside. It was an utter mess. There were packets and plates littered across the floor, broken by the occasional spot of stained carpet. On each side of the room was a large bank of monitors sitting up desks that were nearly as dirty as the room that held them. The monitors each held almost identical displays, each monitoring every agent on WWMNBQ’s payroll. Stick could see her own name and profile there. They’d been tracking everything she’d been saying. damnation them. On the far side of the room was a mini-kitchen, fit with a fridge, stove and even a rather absurdly large closet. There were noises coming from the closet. Stick entered and walked over, stepping from clear space to clear space, trying to keep from getting left over food all over her shoes. As she reached the closet, a loud thumping sound came out from inside it and she jumped back, inadvertently getting some dried ramen stuck on the sole of her shoe. “Move over!” a voice shouted from inside. “No, you!” a different voice replied. Stick stopped and considered this. What the storms was going on in there. She moved closer and more thumping noises came from the closet. “Seriously, there’s not enough space in here! Why did you get in anyway?!” “You and your damnation sheep will not get away with what you’ve done!” “I haven’t done anything.” “You know darn well what you did.” Stick put her hand on the handle and pulled. It didn’t move. The voices inside went silent. Stick tried again but the door wouldn’t budge. It was locked. “Ah, Miss Stick.” Stick turned around quickly, drawing her gun from her belt. It was Time. He stood in doorway, looking, looking as arrogant as always. A figure lurked behind him, a shadow in the hallway. “Justin, what a surprise to see you here.” “I know you’re one of them, Stick. There’s no point in hiding it.” “You’re mistaken Justin, don’t you see the signs on the walls? I have nothing to do with this.” “You’re one of them Stick. I won’t let your lies corrupt me.” In the blink of an eye he pulled his gun out and fired. The figure behind showed their face. It was John. John Marshall. damnation him. damnation then both. The bullet hit Stick right in the heart. She died almost immediately. #Ouch ------------------------------ Also WWMNBQ dividion ------------------------------ > message start War has broken out between myself and Mi9, there is no denying it. Choose your sides agents. It is vitally important that as many of you join me in defeating this corrupt and disgusting tyrant as soon as possible. Declare your allegiance to all others, it is important that you know who is and who is not on your side. We must stop Mi9 from distracting us from finding the voles. Mi9, shut up. Yes. STOP KICKING ME. *coughs* Ahem. Excuse me agents. I shall return with more information for you as soon as I possibly can. > message end ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I_am_a_Stick has been lynched! They were a Spy Coffee. MI9 has fired Conquestor for poor performance! They were a Spy Coffee. Vote talley: I_am_a_Stick (2): The Mighty Lopen, Drake Marshall The Mighty Lopen (1): The Young Bard Daniyah (1): I_am_a_Stick Cycle 4 has now started! You have 24 hours! Have fun! Player List:

> transmission received > decoding... > decoding... > decoding... > decoded. > playing message ... GET IN HERE?! IT'S A LOCKED CLOSET WHAT THE STORMS Mi9?! > message ended> deleting message> message deleted.

> transmission received > decoding... > decoding... > decoding... > decoded. > playing message *panting* I didn't want to do this. This announcement was to be made at the coming of the next day, but Mi9 has forced my hand. I have moved myself into a secure location where Mi9 will not be able to access me. I don't understand. I don't understand at all. One moment they were working with me, the next moment they had a pair of shears in hand trying to kill me. I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand. They were off from the beginning. You could tell that just by looking at them, that there was something off. I should have seen this coming though. Refusing to be called anything but Mi9? The sheep flavoured messages? The modded sniper rifles with added shears I found? They were obvious signs. Obvious. Why didn't I see this sooner?! Mi9 has lost it completely. They've lost it. They've taken control and with that control they're going to bring chaos to the agency and I can't stop them. Agents. Please. I am trapped here. I have nowhere to go. Mi9 has taken everything. All my weapons. All my files, all my data. Everything. They're skilled, we all know that. They are fully capable of doctoring videos, photos, audio logs. Everything. Evverything. You can't trust them. You can't. Trust them. Please, agents. Help me. N out. > message ended > deleting message > message deleted.

--------------------- Anglesey, Wales --------------------- The bar was simple, but pretty, a small construction on a lonely beach in the middle of nowhere. How it got power, Jason had no idea, he simply knew that it was the best bar for miles. It was the only bar for miles. “A martini, stirred, not shaken.” “Coming right up, Mr Bored.” The bartender set to work making up the cocktail and Jason looked out over the beach. The stars were out and the sky was cloudless, and only the dim lights from the open ended bar challenged their brilliant shining. The waves, the tide. The noise soothed him. It was perfect. There were people talking around the bar, of course, but it was quiet at this time of night, at this time of the year. “Your drink, sir.” “Thank you.” “Will you pay with cash or by card, sir.” “Card.” Jason handed the card over to the man and then looked back over the vast sea. Somewhere over there was Ireland. A beautiful place. So close and yet in human terms, so far away. He heard a beeping noise from behind the counter. Then again. He turned around to see the bartender looking somewhat confused. “The card seems to be invalid, sir.” “That doesn’t make sense, I used it just a few minutes ago.” “It reads as invalid. I’m afraid we can’t accept it as payment.” Jason put his drink down. “Can you put it on a tab. I’m going to go and see if I can get some cash from where I’m staying.” “Of course, Mr Bored.” Jason trudged up the beach sand, the moonlight guiding him up to the small patch that had been cleared from the nearby forest, where several small lodges had been set up, in a sort of community. At least one of the residents stayed there permanently, though Jason himself only dropped in from time to time. He walked up to his and opened it with his key, then pushed the door ajar, entering and then closing it behind him. He turned the light switch on to find a gun pointed at his forehead. “MI9 handles agent retirement perfectly well. You know exactly how it is done. And this is not that.” “I… I can explain!” “No, no you can’t. You deserted. That is unacceptable.” The agent pulled the trigger. Everything went black. Jason woke up with a start. His eyes hurt. He couldn’t remember anything. There was someone leaning over above him, grinning madly. “Welcome to Dublin!” ------------------------------------- MI9 Headquarters, Liverpool ------------------------------------- Ryth’s head hurt. Ryth’s back hurt. Ryth’s sides hurt, feet hurt, legs hurt. Ryth’s everything hurt. “Who are you working with?” someone shouted at them. Ryth could feel her breath against their neck. Ryth opened their eyes. They had no idea who it was. “W-what?” “Who. Are. You. Working. With. We know you’re the vole, Ryth. If you tell us who sent you then we can be more lenient with you.” Ryth? The vole? Preposterous! “Me? What are you talking about?” Ryth had been working to find the voles, those filthy double agents, and they were most certainly not one themself. “You’re the vole, Ryth. We have at least 2 other agents providing evidence that you were sharing classified information.” “I did no such thing.” “Ryth, there’s no point in arguing it.” “It’s Agent Ryth to you.” “You lost the right to that title the moment you betrayed us. Now tell us what you know or we will be forced to take much more drastic action.” “What can I tell you?! I don’t know anything!” The woman punched Ryth. “I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING.” Ryth shouted out. “Very well then.” The woman punched Ryth again. And then again. By the time the pain had numbed, Ryth had forgotten who they even were. ---------------------------- Secret Meeting Room ---------------------------- “And with those two agents dealt with, we can move to the most interesting part of this meeting. Upon searching Ex-Agent Jason Bored’s belongings, we found a collection of files - information that he’d been stealing from MI9’s records. There were also some contacts written down, and looking over his phone and email records, we found that he’d been sharing that information with some of his higher ups. I had some of the people in my department track the contacts we found, and they led us to an organisation known as Aries. With a little digging, we found that they were owned by the same person who owns Tybalt, who we’re calling Gemini-Aries. This organisation, Aries, was also linked to an attack on a civilian building somewhere to the west the other day, where Agent Time was known to be using as a residence. I believe that they’re preparing to make a full on attack on MI9, if not the entire world This is very dangerous.” “Thank you, John,” N replied. The data analyst had gone well beyond the minimum, as per usual. “See what else you can find. Otherwise, I believe that’s all for today. I believe it’s a given that you should contact the other intelligence agencies now,” she said, directing her voice towards the European Division head. “Understood, ma’am.” “We’ll reconvene tomorrow to discuss what further action should be taken. It seems, unfortunately, that our agents are dropping like flies.” Everyone stood up, but as N went to leave, she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned around to see the head for Human Resources trying to get her attention. “Is there anything I can help you with, Anne?” “It’s about the new interns you got us, I think your sister and one of her friends?” she mumbled back. “That’s right. Have they been acting up?” “One might say that… They’ve decided that they’ve formed their own department. Your sister claimed she had clearance from you so I let her go ahead with it, but I wanted to check with you.” “Department? What department?” “WWMNBQ Department, ma’am.” “W-wanna BBQ department, what?” “That’s how they pronounce it, ma’am.” “Do you know what it means?” “They’ve conveniently abstained from actually telling anyone.” “How pleasant of them. What are they actually doing?” “The other reason I didn’t bring this up earlier. They seem to know about the voles. Not only that, they seem to be actively trying to find them. They’re coordinating large groups of agents in order to get the agents to find the voles.” “They’re what. Is it working?” “They’re the ones who found out Agent Bored, ma’am.” “They did what?” “They claimed to have known from the beginning, only telling us now.” “That’s… interesting. Grill them for more information. See if you can get anything out of them.” “Affirmative, ma’am. Oh, and one other thing.” “Your sister seems to have some bizarre idea of being a sheep. I’m not… I’m not sure where she got it from. N looked at her blankly. “And the other one, her friend, refuses to be referred to as anything other than ‘Mi9’, no pronouns or anything. It’s very confusing, ma’am.” “I… I’ll talk to her about that if I get the chance.” “Thank you, ma’am.” “You’re free to go.” “Have a good day, ma’am.” The head walked off. N turned towards the door. She stopped, then shook her head and walked off. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <transmission begins> [Music plays] Mi9 greets you, agents, and brings you the missives of the day! Also, suspiciously sly sheep sneakily spy and slip into secret communications. (That’s a code, in case you didn’t notice.) Be suspicious of random sheep who ninja conversations. Be very suspicious. Fact. Sheep are known to be sly and sneaky. And suspicious. A documentary was made about that once. It’s called Zootopia, I believe. Don’t trust random sheep. Really. In other news, sniper rifles have all been issued cutting-edge shear bullets. This is not related in anyway to Mi9’s suspicions. But keep these bullets at the ready. And in case this message gets hacked, no, I am not referring to the illustrious ‘N’ or anyone related to her. Nope. Completely different ninja Sheep. Yes. Mi9 is prepared to disavow anything said in this announcement. Anyway, the missives. Right. [Message 1 plays] *static* “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!” He took his vorpal sword in hand; Long time the manxome foe he sought— So rested he by the Tumtum tree And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back! *static* [message ends] Okay, so which smartmouth decided this was a good idea? Mi9 hopes this agent was in their right mind when they sent this...Perhaps we should consider some...cognitive recalibration. While Mi9 appreciates the valiant efforts to educate their fellow agents on good literature, unless this missive was meant to be some code, heads are going to roll… Mi9 hopes the agent appreciates what Mi9 did there. *resumes professional tone [Message 2] Everyone needs to post missive, to be held accountable. Curently, I can claim I'm Young Bard, and say something that seems like what Bard would say to implicate him. Bard would deny it and then there's no way to prove who actually said it, except by getting everyone to come forward and say which missive they posted. But since only three people posted anything last cycle, the person pretending to be Young Bard can easily say they didn't send one in. I am Bush. Connected to Drake and mage. Originally drake and drought, but C targeted me for unknown reasons. [Message ends] [Message 3 Begins] Des here. Sorry for not touching base earlier. Not much to say on my end. I've voted for Agent Bond at the behest of Agent Time. I don't trust Justin, if I'm completely honest, but he's speaking enough sense that I'm willing to give his lead a shot. Opinion might change depending on the results of today. At this point I’m basically suspicious of everybody, but I’m relatively certain that “Buckbeak” is on the Agency’s side, based off of his previous missive. Happy hunting [Message 3 Ends] [Message 4 begins] Justin again. Had a missive finished, then plans changed. I'm voting Mage for meta reasons mostly. If he's a Double Agent, I think Joe is basically cleared. I've got a weird read on Aman, but he's apparently helping me lynch Mage, so depending on how that turns out, that should affect that read a bit. I'm a Contacts. Ecth was a Spy Contacts, and so am I. That's for anyone who wants to guess role distribution. I think it means the Double Agents have got a C role. [Message 4 ends] [Message 5 begins] Slight suspicion on Seonid for dodging saying anything of value in PM- possibly avoiding Elim avoiding inactivity filter? I voted on SB today because I knew that 2 others were also voting on him, and I didn't want the result changed. Please, please everyone stay active/ become active - 3 missives/ 3 votes is terrible, even for Cycle 1. Buckbeak [Message 5 ends] On that note, Mi9 is noticing a disconcertingly low amount of missives. If more missives are not sent in by the next cycle, Mi9 shall assume that the comlinks of said agents have been compromised, which is why no missives are being sent. Standard protocol would be to self-destruct said comlinks and send new ones! Do not worry, comlink self-destruction isn’t fatal (usually). Send more missives! Don’t trust ninja sheep. <transmission ends> ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Silverblade5 has been lynched! They were a Spy "C". Mi9 has fired DroughtBringer for poor performance! They were a Double Agent "C". Vote Tally: Silverblade5 (2): The Young Bard, A Joe in the Bush Magestar (2): The Mighty Lopen, Amanuensis DroughtBringer (1): I_am_a_stick I_am_a_stick (1): Magestar Silverblade was selected over Magestar for the lynch randomly by RNG. Cycle 3 has now begun! You have 24 hours! Have fun! Player List:

Cycle 2 is closed. Cycle 3 is up now.

The title is relevant to the write-up I'm doing, I just... need to write it.

Cycle 1 is now closed! Cycle 2 is up now!

Another note: As a result of the "must have 2 PMs" thing, if a player is lynched, the two people they have PMs with will also be connected, as would happen if someone died to the inactivity filter.

N was tired. “And this is all the details you could find?” she asked the data analyst. “Yes, unfortunately,” he replied, motioning to the stack of files on the desk in front of her. “We received some more reports as well. Apparently they have connections with a business known as Tybalt Transportations over in the States, though they have branches all over the world. We also have reports of a recent attack on one of their branch offices, a Doc Oleny if you’ve heard of him? Someone suggested he might be one of ours, but I’m not, of course, at liberty with that information.” “He is one of ours, yes.” “Ah.” “You think he’s dangerous?” “He is, but that shouldn’t be an issue.” N looked to the rest of the table. “Thoughts?” “If he’s making attacks on collaborators with our enemies I see no issue with it” replied the Prime Minister. “We don’t know if Tybalt are actually collaborating or simply being used. It could be that he’s one of the voles.” replied the Minister. N sighed. “It’s probably best if we leave him be for now.” “Agreed.” responded the data analyst. “If there are later issues we can deal with them then.” “All right. Now, I need to discuss another of our agents, Loyde. At least two agents have reported them to me under suspicion of being one of the voles.” “Do you think they’re trustworthy?” replied the Prime MInister “They have a good reputation in the agency. I think I believe them.” “It might be appropriate to remove them from service.” mumbled the head of Human Resources. “I agree. I’ll organise that as soon as possible. In addition, another agent named Fifth Nameless has gone silent. Any suggestions on what to do with them?” “Cut contact, cut resources, cut supplies. Either they’re dead or they’ve gone rogue.” “Done.” N jotted this down in her notes. “I believe that’s all for today. I will look over these files tonight and see if I can find anything interesting. We’ll meet again at the same time tomorrow.” The table nodded. Everyone stood up and left the room. This was bad. This was really bad. Voles in MI9 and everyone on edge with no idea about what was going on. N needed a cup of tea. --------- <Transmission received> <playing transmission> [music plays] And now for a word from Mi9! Mi9 wishes to greet you, and proclaim the mandatory announcements for the day. Mi9 has realized it has no mandatory announcements for today. Do not be so quick to show your relief, agents. Mi9 trained you better than that. Keep that poker face on, agent [redacted]! In any case, please stay tuned for the following missives from your fellow agents. Mi9 wishes to issue a reminder, once again, that the Missive announcement system is not to be used for: Asking fellow agents out, announcements of the football scores, [redacted for sensitive information], [redacted for nsfw reasons], your confessions - drunken or lucid, [redacted for fun], or playing the James Bond/Mission impossible/Johnny English theme on loop. The missive announcement system is not your personal radio station, so keep that in mind, agent [redacted] . Ahem. Commence messages! [static] [MESSAGE ONE BEGINS ] This is Justin. I'm in contact with Joe Bond and Ryth. Not much chatter. Things are looking bleak. I need more information. I've revealed my role and contacts with both contacts, but they have yet to do the same. Mission will fail without more communication. Joe Bond viewed message before me, but has yet to respond. Hasn't been around since the beginning. Ryth sent a couple short messages, but no substance to them, so I'm attempting to take him down. No more time, I've got to go. It's tea time. Over and out. [MESSAGE ONE ENDS] [MESSAGE TWO BEGINS ] If I'm not misunderstanding the rules, no one would know who posted this. If I find a missive suspicious, how would I connect it to the person who sent it so that I could vote for them, unless they've claimed in a PM what they'd be talking about? Anyway, the Elims need to have PMs with every living player, which means Bureaucrats would be quite useful; just pick the person you find suspicious and cut their PMs off. I would be keeping an eye on those whom I get new PMs from, though I'm aware of the existence of Contacts. [MESSAGE TWO ENDS ] [MESSAGE THREE BEGINS ] Suggesting everyone reveals PM's. It will help catch Elims with high numbers of PM's, or prevent them from making too many. I have PM's with Seonid, Conquestor. Contacts: Set up trust group - we need information. Worth risk, IMO. C: Direct PM's between 2 best guesses for Elim - Elims gain nothing if you're right. Bureaucrat: Use on most suspicious player. Hacker: If you find PM that isn't marked in Missives, be suspicious of PM Creator. No suspicions right now. Mild trust on RP'ers. Creating alias to use in case I need to reveal I wrote missives. Suggesting others do same. Buckbeak [MESSAGE THREE ENDS ] Yes, that means you lot can clear off now. Mi9 warns it's agents to practice safe drinking and brawling. And with that done, I can go get my own drink… Oh, and the code word of the day is: cabbage. Over and out. <Transmission ends> --------------------------- (Thank you Doc for the Mi9 section) Darkness Ascendant has been lynched! They were a Spy "Coffee". Mi9 has fired Ecthelion III for poor performance! They were a Spy "Contacts". Vote tally: Darkness Ascendant (2): Stick, Arinian Silverblade5 (1): The Mighty Lopen Cycle 2 has now begun! You have 24 hours! Have fun! Player List:

A quick addition to "C"'s role action: The PMs you started with are referred to as Primary PMs, with all PMs created by "Contacts" or by the Double Agents being referred to as Non-Primary PMs. Suppose two people, F and G, have a Primary PM. If a "C" elects to redirect one of F's PMs and the RNG selects a Primary PM, the PM will be closed and neither F nor G will have access to it. However, everyone must have 2 Primary PMs at all times (the exception to this being if a Bureaucrat has blocked off one of the PMs). Thus, a new PM is created between G and a random non-F player which serves as a new Primary PM.

N held tight onto the bundle of papers in her arms as she walked up to the meeting room door, swiping her ID card against the scanner, allowing her access to one of the most top secret areas of MI9. The door slid open with a slick sound and she entered, taking a quick account of who had arrived. The table was long, dark, with the seats on either side only partially filled. A single rose was laid down in front of one of the vacant seats. “Ah, N. Good to see you,” opened the Prime Minister, seated opposite to where N herself would be sitting. “Thank you, Mr Prime Minister,” she replied, taking her own seat and laying her papers done one the smooth black cloth of the table. The table, which had just been in a muted conversation, quieted and everyone looked to her, waiting for her to speak. She glanced over at the rose. “Glad to have you here,” she started. “We are here today to discuss the potential of a vole in MI9, as discussed by both Smith and Peter in recent reports. Peter claims that Smith himself was the vole, and ended up in a firefight resulting in Smith’s death. I, for one, don’t think that claim is valid. So the first point of order is to discuss how to find the vole. Or voles. We can’t discount the possibility of there being many.” The woman sitting next to the Prime Minister cleared her throat and began to speak. She was the head of the European division of MI9, and N had heard her discussing the matter with some of her assistants - not necessarily cleared but not too much of an issue in the grand scheme of things. It was useful when people were informed as well. “I still think we need to involve the other European leaders - the French president, German chancellor and all the rest. As much as this is an issue for MI9, a vole here means its likely their intelligence agencies will have been infiltrated as well. We all know this isn’t just some national spy either, this is an agent from some kind of organisation we barely have grips with. Virtually every national agency is at risk.” The Prime Minister nodded to himself in response. The man sitting opposite from the European head, the Minister for Home Affairs, however, seemed less at ease with the idea. “This is a British issue for a British agency. This isn’t something we need to worry our allies with. We also can’t have our weaknesses seen either. We don’t want to expose ourselves.” “I suggest we at the least tell them to look out for the possibility of a vole from some power beyond our current understanding. It’s the least we could do for them as our allies.” the European head shot back. The Minister looked thoughtful, placing his hand under his chin, then nodded. “That seems acceptable to me.” “It’s agreed then.” the European head responded. “Has anyone any issues with this?” N asked, addressing the whole table. Nobody raised their voice to complain. “It’s done then.” She opened up one of her folders and made some notes, reminding herself to send out that memo later. Several of the others at the table did the same. “Does anyone else have any ideas?” “I don’t see what else we can do until we have much more information,” suggested the head of the department of intelligence, resident data analyst of the board. His suggestion was met with a series of nods. “It seems everyone agrees then. We will have to reconvene at a later date to collate what we’ve gathered.” Further nodding. “Next, I would like to discuss the few leads we have on a possible parent organisation of these voles. The notes Smith left mentions an entity called ‘Gemini’. Have any of you heard of it before?” Only the data analyst had. “The name appeared a few times when we were uploading all those old files onto the system. Lots of minor crimes, but all linked to someone called Gemini. We didn’t think much of it - they were from something like the 40s. Not much you can do with that unfortunately.” “So we’re looking at something older making a reappearance?” “Possibly, though it’s just as likely to be something new. Gemini isn’t exactly an unintuitive name for organisation.” “That is true. Unfortunately I don’t have much more information on the matter on hand. I have a few scraps from Smith’s notes, but he didn’t have a lot on it. I’ll add this to the notes for next meeting. Do you think you could retrieve those records from the old files?” “Should be easy enough, yeah.” “Do so. We can use as much information as possible.” “Will do.” “Now, has anyone else got anything they need to discuss?” Shaking of heads. “All right. Meeting adjourned.” Everyone stood up from the table and left the room. ---- Welcome to QF21! I'm doing PMs now so don't worry if you don't get one immediately. The Cycle will last 24 hours, ending at 6pm GMT Friday 27th January Remember, no game discussion in thread, but RP is okay. And.... begin! Player List:

Timer has been updated, sorry for not getting around to that sooner >>

Right, that's 15 people! This means we can start. Unfortunately, I'm going to be occupied for the next two days, so we'll be starting at 6pm GMT on Thursday. Hype!

What do you want your character name to be? And I recommend you read the rules ASAP, they're somewhat... unconventional.

Hoping to get another 3 people and then we can start!

What do you want your character name to be?

Sure thing

Sign-ups are being pushed back to make sure we get enough players. Timer has been updated appropriately. If we get more than 15 players the game will likely start then, but if that happens I'll make sure to inform everyone.

Only extracts from the Voynich manuscript and Pirahã.

No, because English isn't oligosynthetic. What is and isn't a word is generally to my discretion, but be warned that if you try something like this then I will just put spaces between them and treat them as separate words. In addition, words with hyphens will be treated as two distinct words. In general though, if I have an issue with your word count, I'll bring it up in PM so it can be worked on on a case by case basis. Interesting idea, but no. The PM that is closed is randomly selected from among A's PMs, both normal and contacts/elim. It can only work with existing PMs, since PM closure happens before any new PMs would be made. A random PM of A's is cut off if the Beauraucrat gets it wrong, and they are not informed of this. I did discuss with Joe about removing the Doc, but he thought it would be a better idea to keep it.

I mean, I have a spec doc there, and you can read the missives. I'm not sure whether to allow pinchhitters, but at the moment its leaning no, so there might be some sharing of juicy details in the spec doc.

Everyone starts with 2 PMs. Posts must be in PMs.