Post by caitlyn on Feb 17, 2009 22:56:44 GMT -5
THE MURDERS CONTINUE
[/color]‘Woman number twelve, whose name was disclosed for unknown reasons, was found last
night in the ladies room of the leaky cauldron. When she did not return to the room she
was staying in, her husband panicked and called the ministry. Four hours later, a female
auror was taking a break when she found pieces of what she thought was ‘vomit’
in one of the sinks. No comment was given by the female auror. The husband is ‘terribly
depressed’ and says he will need time to ‘recover from this heinous crime’ and also wishes
that ‘whoever the f**k did this to my wife should turn their bloody arse in’. Like the husband,
we all have questions that remain unanswered: when will this end? Why is this happening?
Hopefully, this murder spree is almost over. Hopefully.'
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How well do you know your brother? How about your next-door neighbour? What about you your
boss? If you know very little about any of the above, I highly suggest you change that. Why?
Well, any one of them could very well be a psychotic woman killer. But who knows these days?
Everything’s fucked up. But that is exactly what has been terrorizing London the past few weeks.
Nothing seemed peculiar when the first murder occurred. It’s London, times have changed.
Murders happen all the time. But when these women kept being murdered, and in the same
fashion, people began to realize that these weren’t just the ‘occasional murder’. Something was
up, and they were starting to ask questions no one could answer. And now? Twelve murders
have occurred in the past month. That wasn’t normal. Women have been dropping right
and left like flies. “Dropping” isn't exactly… accurate, in certain terms. “Cut up” or “mutilated”
would probably suffice a little better. The incredibly strange thing about all this is… well, the
killer is like a ghost, so to speak. No fingerprints, no footprints, no hair, nothing! And to add
onto that strangeness, the killer only kills magical women; no muggles. Remember Jack the
Ripper? Think of him, but modernized… and a wizard.
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“This is outrageous!”
“Minster, would you kindly lower your voice?”
“I will not! I’ve got a murderer on the run killing women right and left, and my
best men can’t figure out a bloody thing about him!”
“Excuse me, Sir? Y-you have a message.”
“Well, tell me for god’s sake, Jane.”
“S-sir… your daughter… she’s been…”
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When the beloved daughter of the Minster is discovered to be the latest victim, the public, who
had already been worrying for quite some time now, started to panic. They want answers that the
ministry doesn’t have themselves. Why is he doing this? What if it’s more than one person? Why
are we having such a difficult time stopping him? Is there a reason he’s only murdered females?
And why the past thirteen victims? Those questions are the ones that just keep coming up. The
questions that matter the most. These questions, are also the questions that have caused rioting,
fleeing, random arrests, mental problems, etc. Anything and everything that could possibly go
wrong, has been. Everyone just wants it stop. Everyone just wants peace again. It doesn’t matter
what bloodline you are, or who your dad was – you just want the women in your life to be safe.
And because of that, adding onto the recent murder of his daughter’s death, the minister came up
with a set of requirements and enforced them throughout wizarding London:
1. All women shall be escorted everywhere they wish to go by a male and/or shall travel in a
group that includes two or more women.
2. No women are allowed outdoors after ten P.M.
3. All males are required to be interrogated by the Minister himself.
4. Anyone who wishes to break these requirements shall be sent to Azkaban and/or placed under
ministry care.
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Rules fix everything, right? Well, the Minister believed that, and therefore, he began to calm and
worry less about the women of London. Of course, when you’re young and alive, you don’t want
to follow the rules that you just got away from years ago. So, these ‘requirements’ are doing
little. Everyone’s breaking them. You only live once, so why not make the best of it? Of course,
there’s the occasional ‘goody-two shoes’ and Mister ‘goody-two shoes’ that follows those rules
and reports anyone and everyone to the ministry. Everyone is scared right now, but what can you
do? Sit in a house alone, waiting to be killed? Many of these people have their whole life ahead
of them, and they’re going to pursue their dreams while they can. Because of all these ‘rule-
breakers’, life just got much easier for one specific person. After a week and a half, people
thought that everything was okay. That the murderer realized his limits.
The best way to start a morning is with a crying wife and a girl in a box.
And that’s exactly what the minister got on that lovely Sunday morning.
Inside the box he believed to be papers or something of that sort was
a girl cut completely in half, with her head lying on top of her arms and
legs. How lovely. But that wasn’t the only precious gift the minister
received that morning. You see, in the girl's mouth was a note. Guess
who it was from.
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Minister, oh Minister.
You can play your game and enforce your fancy laws. But remember one
thing, will you Minister? I cannot be stopped. No matter how hard you try, no matter how much
protection you put on your beloved witches, I will be there to chop them up into little, tiny
pieces. And while we’re talking, I might as well answer some of your questions. I’m the only
one committing these murders – a one-man act. Why do I choose this as my profession? Well,
we all have to do something, don’t we? Why did you go into politics, my dear man? Did it
intrigue you? Well, killing intrigues me. Women intrigue me. I find them to be a nuisance
in this world. They stop at nothing to ruin our lives. That’s why I do what I do. You can’t live
with them, but you can surely live without them – metaphorically speaking, of course. My lovely
Minister, I have gone on too long.
I will leave you with this: I’m an artist.
I make things full of color and meaning.
I’m… well, I’m a BOHEMIAN LIKE YOU.[/i][/SIZE][/color][/url]
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THE MURDERS ESCALATE
[/color]It’s me again, Minister, you thought you had me didn’t you? You thought I’d given up, you thought
you had me under control, that my absence would be the end. You can’t control something you
don’t know, and Minister, my art will last eternities. Even when I am gone, there will be more of me.
There will be people that will act like me, of that I am sure. The world is twisted, Minister, it isn’t all
Harry Potter hunky-dory. Now Minister, this isn’t a social letter you know, I’ve got something very
important to tell you. Last month, on my last kill, while I was severing a girl’s pretty little head, I had
an idea; I thought I’d quite like to overthrow society. I think it would be a nice change, you know,
Minister, after all, peace is overrated, a little chaos, or maybe a lot of chaos would do me a world
of good. As for how I’ll do this Minister, well, I’ll let you work it out; you’re not a stupid man.
You’ve had your calm Minister, now it’s my turn. Watch my storm, Minister, you’ll love it.
I guarantee you.
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“It’s a mudblood.”
“That you don’t know, Simon.”
“Then it’s a half blood or a blood traitor. Whatever it is, it isn’t one of us.”
“How can you be so sur-”
“TWENTY PUREBLOODED WOMEN IN ONE WEEK, DRAZAN. HE KILLED MY SISTER. WE
DON’T KILL EACH OTHER, PUREBLOODS DON’T DO THAT.”
“Something has to be done.”
“Hear hear.”
“Quite.”
“They’re too cocky, too arrogant; they’ve gone too far this time. We must act. Immediately.”
“The Ministry-!”
“TO HELL WITH THE MINISTRY. IT’S DONE NOTHING AND WILL DO NOTHING.”
“Then what do we do?”
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“HAVE YOU FUCKING SEEN THIS?”
“Riley, please.”
“ARE THEY FUCKING CRAZY? THAT LUNATIC WAS KILLING HALF AND MUGGLEBORNS
LAST MONTH. SUDDENLY HE DECIDES HE LIKES THE PURER WOMEN INSTEAD AND WE
GET THE CRAP FOR IT?”
“Jesus, keep your voice down.”
“I FUCKING WON’T. THIS’LL BE LIKE THE WARS ALL OVER AGAIN, THEY’LL START KILLING
US BEFORE LONG. FUCKING PUREBLOODS.”
“What do you want to do? Get the order back up? Go vigilante-ing like way back then?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m concerned.”
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