Ali Jackson | Inside the mind of an assassin

Once a year, for a short two weeks, being a stalker is not only okay - it's applauded. And every year I say to myself, "This is my time to shine."

Not to freak you out or anything, but I've always been quite the stalker. It's a skill I was born with.

That's why I relish this time of year, when I can put my gift to excellent use. In the words of the great MC Hammer.

Stop. It's Hostile Takeover time.

For you non-Whartonites, Hostile Takeover is the Wharton Council's version of Assassins. Enlisted students - called Corporate Raiders - are issued a ball and the name of a someone that they must "kill" within a given time limit. They must also avoid death themselves.

In addition, Wharton Council members walk around campus wearing targets - hit four of them in one day, and you gain immunity for that round.

So obviously now you're wondering what it's really like to be inside this game of mystery and intrigue.

As I sit here, I am exactly seven hours and 23 minutes away from eternal safety. My journey here has been filled with subterfuge, failure and the omnipresent embarrassment that comes with playing a game not everyone knows about.

Wharton Council member and Wharton sophomore Vas Natarajan is a key administrator of Hostile Takeover.

"It's so funny to see kids running around the halls trying to kill each other," Natarajan said. "It's become really hardcore."

He told anecdotes ranging from a guy dressing up in a chicken suit to hide his face to a full sprint pursuit through Huntsman Hall.

Wharton sophomore Reigan Combs, another Council member, wore a target shirt for several days of the game. "Wherever I went I would get bombarded with green balls," she said.

Not having gotten immunity, I've had to fend for myself out there.

My first-round target was tough, as I was greeted at his door by an intimidating member of the basketball team. Only some smooth talking and an exceptionally low-cut dress got me through that one.

Round two took me to a freshman OPIM 101 lecture, where I posed as a classmate and snuck up on my target from behind. Conflict ensued as he argued that the class had already begun (making him safe from attack). Had it? We'll never know.

And lastly, a mere 20 minutes ago, I tracked down my third and final target in the offices of The Daily Pennsylvanian, posing as a stupid columnist unable to figure out the computers. Damsel in distress - works every time.

But in the interest of full disclosure I should admit that yesterday I accosted the wrong guy in a crowded elevator and demanded to see his PennCard.

Along the way, I've had to watch my back and, as they warn us in the e-mails we get, "trust no one."

I owe my safety in the second round to a well-timed trip downtown on a Thursday night. According to my more-responsible roommate who stayed home to do work, my assassin entered our apartment and ran into my bedroom to get me. Thank god I have a life.

I was sure others had had similar experiences, so I tried to speak to fellow Corporate Raiders still left in the game, For some reason I had a hard time tracking them down - I can't imagine why.

One brave soul who agreed to give me his cell-phone number (probably because he knows my roommate and she vouched for me, but who's keeping track) is Wharton sophomore Charley Lu.

"People outside the game think it's ridiculous," he admitted.

Lu said he can no longer relax when outside his room, instead "looking for suspicious faces and people reaching for green balls."

He's become increasingly creative in his hunting techniques, even logging onto a mutual friend's instant messenger to talk to his target. "He spilled his heart to me," Lu said. "I know where he's hiding, when his classes are . everything. This game has definitely made me a better stalker."

I didn't need the stalking improvement but honestly, I'm lucky I've made it this far and I have this to say.

To my assassins:

Are you idiots? My picture is in the newspaper and if you Google my name one of the first things that comes up is a column whose first line includes the words "on the 18th floor of Rodin." Honestly, you need to re-evaluate your lives.

Love,

Ali

Ali Jackson is a Wharton and College sophomore from Cardiff, Calif. Her e-mail address is jackson@dailypennsylvanian.com. A Little Person-Ali-ty appears on Mondays.

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