Got To Be Startin' Something

Big Money invested in water on behalf of Agent 860

My Rolex swept past 7:40 quietly as the train rolled into the station. I finished debriefing my mistress on exactly what I was going to do, and when I was going to do it. She seemed a bit nervous... probably from watching all those episodes of Alias. I wasn't nervous though. I watch 24. Upon clearing the subway stairs I told her, "okay, we're going dark now." She understood and immediately started talking about her day at the office. The restaurant looked nice. It was a place I'd passed at least hundreds of times in the almost seven years I've lived in New York, but had never bothered to dine. The two of us stopped in front of the door and reviewed the Asian-fusion menu; I glanced inside to try to recognize my mark. No sign of him yet, but we weren't supposed to meet until 8pm. Killing time. That's what I need to be doing right now. I decided to take a stroll around the block to Best Buy and checkout Sony's new 1080p HDTV. The cool wad of cash was burning a hole in my pocket, but I needed to focus. It was too early for celebrating, but just about the time to hose down a rookie.

Three days earlier I didn't think it would all be so easy. After picking up my contract from the Commanders, I immediately started researching. The Internet was my best friend now. The satellite and aerial imagery I began obtaining started to paint a clear picture for me. The picture was that penetrating this guys Bushwick stronghold would be virtually impossible. Our day-job fronts were along the same hours, so his vulnerabilities were mine as well. I could not give up. I had no choice but to dig until I found a way for my enemy to come to me. After hours of sifting through data being siphoned off of the Net from spiders designed to research my mark, I hit something. His education would be his undoing. It was a detailed list of classmates from a graduate course taken over a year ago. It was all there. Their names, phone numbers, email addresses. After very careful consideration, I decided one particular name was the least likely to still be in-touch with my target. My target's name, after all, was amazingly generic. Another obstacle in obtaining relevant information. This person, however, had an impossibly foreign name. Perhaps it was shameless profiling, but there's a time and a place for everything. I created a new email account for faigtofig@gmail.com. Faig then wrote a nice email to Justin, my unsuspecting target, about a new opportunity.

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Hi Justin,

It's Faig from your Pub. Design class. I was hoping you could help me on a freelance project coming up. If you're too busy, just let me know. This is rather last minute, but the person I had to do the job just backed out, and I know this is sort of in your area of expertise. Let me know if you're available for a 10-15 hour magazine cover comp job next week. It's a start-up, but they're in a bind and aren't being cheap about it anymore. I hope to hear from you!

Faig

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After almost a full day of thinking my plan had fallen through, I finally caught a glimpse of hope.

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Faig,

How goes it? I am currently living in Brooklyn NY. Would this be a project that could be done remotely? Also, would we be working collaboratively or would I be working on the cover alone?

Hope all is well Talk to you soon

Justin

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He bought it! Now I just had to close the sale. But how? After a surgically selected volley of emails between Justin and who he thought was his old classmate, we made made plans for dinner. I let Justin choose the venue. I wanted him to feel safe and comfortable. He selected the NoHo Star on Lafayette Street. I replied specifying that I'd see him inside. There is a subway station right outside of that restaurant, and I didn't want him to have easy access to a safe zone if something were to go awry. The plan, however, was in motion; all I could do is wait.

My date and I greeted by the hostess. She thought she knew us, but I insisted it was our first time at the establishment. Right then I identified our rookie target. He looked a little nervous. Then again, he was sitting alone in a restaurant waiting for someone he apparently did not know very well. The waiter came over to bug us almost instantly. Jutting a menu in my face, he asked if I'd like anything to drink. I needed to stay sharp right now, so I ordered a Leffe. Grabbing his arm I then told him, "I'm putting this note in a menu for my friend over there. Just give him the menu and walk away. Say nothing." He was surprisingly agreeable and did as I said.

As he walked away, I reached into my jacket for one of my secure cell phones and dialed Justin's number. He glanced down at his phone instantly, but ignored the "Restricted Number." Now with my positive ID, I left my seat and made my way towards the restrooms. Just then the waiter passed me and headed towards my target's table. I followed about 15 paces behind. Justin took the menu and immediately opened it. As I came nearer, watching him open the neatly folded dossier sent from the Supreme Government, he read my personal message. "Nice to soak you! -- $Big Money$" Just then a glimmer recognition came over his face. My Jr. sized pistol, moist with anticipation; I raised my arm and fired into his back. His head dropped... in shame. It was over.

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After the kill, Justin and I had a good laugh and he joined my date and I for dinner. He was after all, alone. Once I explained the Faig wasn't coming and that there was no freelance job, it all started to come together for him. He, as I would have been, was just happy that someone actually tricked him and he wasn't just popped by some punk catching him leaving his building. He didn't get a chance to get his own card, but he got to hang on to the note, which was his photo dossier and even the little pink gun that took him down. He went out with a bit of class. That is, after all, why Big Money is here.

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Big Money weave a mighty web
Big Money draw the flies

How Nizris got smoked

I was ambushed today (Wednesday, September 27, 2006 @ 9:30 am) by an elite group of assassins, possibly the former Nizari group known as Fida'is. I knew the Shadow Government had gold but I did not realize you had so much gold to hire such a group. I believe you have surpassed my former employer, Cobra Commander in stature. Your money was well spent as only the elite could take me down. I have no doubt in my mind this group will go on to win.

They had a game plan that was executed well. It is for them to tell of their execution of the plan as they might use the same tactics on their next target(s). An assassin never reveals another assassins tactics unless that assassin kicked your pet monkey or something like that.

I had a plan that I didn't stick to this one time, I felt something was up but it was too late... The earth will cry today for its loss and I no longer have to live in fear. Hopefully the Shadow Government will use the Re-Animator technology and bring me back to life. As for the drinks I was offered by the group, e-mail me when it is best for you, as I know you guys take time to plan your game.

Ciao, Agent Nizaris.

Dog Face Magoo flip the script on their assassin

Agent Nina of Dog Face Magoo, disguised under deep cover as a regular office worker, received credible intel regarding their pathetically would-be assassin. Perhaps gaining confidence from prior reports of easily fooled marks, this novice assassin contacted Agent Nina under false pretenses, and proceeded to make an appointment in Nina's office. In the lion's own lair! A damp, watery lair, booby-trapped like One-Eyed Willie's galleon!

Agent Nina, only too happy to accomodate the dubiously skilled killer's request for a tete-a-tete, displayed calm as she met with her brazen assassin. A surveillance camera was deployed, resulting in a cat-and-mouse scene paralleled only by that one scene in Heat when Deniro and Pacino have coffee together. Agent Nina was able to extract all sorts of useful information: the killer's name, address, telephone number, place of employ, and the details of her physical appearance. The kill was fast. Gun pulled from drawer. Predator became prey. One shot to the neck. Assassin seriously injured, pride obliterated, and not likely to recover for at least 24 hours as of 12:30pm. Video will be uploaded to the Shadow Government's secure servers once our analysts complete their assessment of the new risk level.

Agent Jacques Bauer

Frankie the Hipster Slayer scores on Agent Brazilipole

I set Brazilipole up the bomb, and killed her with a style and flair not often seen outside of only the most professional assassin circuits. I hope it provides minutes of amusement. I will presume to win best video award, but hey...you never know. I look forward to receiving your praises, and to receiving my next assignment. Get used to my zest for streaming life giving water on the unworthy.

Video will come soon

Your minion, Frankie The Hipster Slayer

C17H21NO4 hung Aquaman out to dry...only to wet him again

C17H21NO4 met at forward base Alpha at 1700 to plan our strike on Aquaman. After a briefing, Agents suited up and moved to positions surrounding all exit points from the target's work. Agent C17 covered the entrance to the #1 train, which was on the same block as the target's building. Our plan was to have 4 operatives positioned in cars forward and aft of the target's subway car, with one operative in his actual car, advising on subject's position and movement. This roving tail would allow us to have the target surrounded upon exit from the train, moving forward operators to strike positions above the subway exit. Upon stepping foot onto non-safe soil, the target would have been neutralized from 3 positions, with a 4th providing covering fire in the event of an ambush or other hostile action.

Aquaman let us down by exiting his building and walking down Broadway as though he hadn't been involved in a 15-minute firefight in the front of his apartment building that very morning, as though he hadn't noticed that there were agents and an embedded journalist positioned outside of his house with UWVs, and as if he was totally unaware that he had made the train that morning with a mere 10 seconds to spare. Had he looked up, he would have been staring into the fire-filled eyes of Agent NO4 when the L train closed its doors.

Instead, he fell victim to routine. He didn't like the transition from 1 to L at 14th Street, so he chose to risk the 3 blocks of hostile territory at 1750 on a Tuesday afternoon. He was picked up within moments of leaving the building. NO4 fell in behind him while the remaining agents redeployed into support positions. The phalanx moved down Broadway and intercepted the target at 49th Street. With a polite, "Excuse me," Agent NO4 used his weapon to move an older man in a suit out of the way and executed the target.

"Target is down, I repeat, Target is down," was the rallying cry for the alcohol and Massive Attack concert that followed.