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H2 Uh-Oh! (1) stuck it to The Backdoor Bandit (0)

After a total of 15 hours of stalking on 4 separate occasions at all hours, urination in a number of receptacles, a hit made on a roommate in a case of mistaken identity and a regrettable instance of breaking and entering (through an unlocked door), the very wily Benji K is no more.

He is a solid competitor and his tenacity and fire power is only paralleled by his keen cunnery. Let me begin by reviewing the instances past which illuminate the honor of BK. On my second stake-out of his place (the first ending in the aforementioned roommate slaying) my position was compromised by one of his many spies he had employed to deftly watch his block. Instead of being cautious and waiting until I had left he was able to lead me into a trap which would bring him 24 hours of glorious safety. On the third attempt I waited and watched behind tinted windows for approximately 7 hours straight. When he was spotted we engaged in a spectacular battle (which included cheering from on lookers and bewildered bystanders) both of us putting up a worthy fight so much so the confrontation had to be reviewed by the omniscient Mustache Commander in all his wisdom of cold blood lust. Regrettably it was determined I used illegal weaponry (inventive as it may be). I was discouraged but the zealot in me beat the shit out of the discoursed part and the stalking continued bringing us to the final battle:

My target knew what I looked like, was aware of my tactics and my options were waning. I began an elaborate plan which was quickly simplified by a stroke of strange luck that could have taken a turn for the worse.

To start, I employed the help of a female in the event I needed to distract him and I acquired a disguise. We waited at a bar next to his apartment before getting into the apartment building (another good reason to have a lady present because tenants willfully allow them through the primary building doors). We listened at his door. No sounds except for a distant television. Then a turning point (literally); the door was unlocked. Despite knowing breaking and entering is not sanctioned, nor cool in most situations it was clear what had to be done. I crossed the line, figuratively and literally.

The first step inside was met with a slow floorboard creak which I could hardly hear over my heart beat (not because I was nervous of course, but because my heart is so massively burly and muscularly powerful). Once in the kitchen I surveyed my surroundings quickly before I heard: �Hello? Is someone there?�

I drew my weapon (a neon derringer) and peeked around the corner. It was not my target. I either had a lot of explaining to do or a lot of real attacks to avoid. To make matters worse it didn�t help that my disguise was nothing close to someone that should be trusted under any circumstance in or outside of one�s home. Now, we were face to faux-hair-face.

�What the fuck?� is all he said at first. I did not reply as the same question was repeated at increased decibels. I made my way to the front door calmly and quickly but was unsure I would make it out un-tussled. I reached for the door handle at which point the roommate was within striking distance bellowing �Dude, what the fuck are you doing in my apartment!� the door knob broke off in my hand but the door opened. Knowing I had to address the fellow now behind me before he legally bludgeoned his intruder I handed him the door knob and realized the bit of levity the situation actually held. �Next time, lock your door� I said with a chuckle and smile then quickly headed down the stairs.

As I scrambled I heard commotion behind me and a final �What the fuck?�, before another voice from inside the apartment emerged due to the commotion.

�It�s gotta be him.� The second voice asserted.

�Who the fuck was that?� said the roommate.

�C�mon, stay infront of me.�

At this point I knew that was my target, he had a human shield and I had no place to go but down and out plus my female compatriot was no where in sight. I was on my own and knowing his super soaking potential versus my pea-shooter I had to cloak myself- fast. I got outside and jumped into a garbage can. It was just big enough to fit in but I was on top f some putrid contents. I heard footsteps clamor next to me down the outside steps and I burst out of the can as my mustache became dislodged. I fired but it did not go the intended distance. He turned. Fired back but I had already made a leap for the sidewalk at which point I was now being pursued. I ran. They followed. Many people on the sidewalk looked confused, some were amused, I was not one of them. I turned up 2nd av. trying to hail a taxi but understandably none would stop for my eerie panic stricken facade. �Into a bar!� I thought but there was a bouncer that asked to see my ID. Fuck that, no time. The target had already spotted me and we both knew he had superior fire power. Flight was again chosen in this case. Turning West on 14th I then crouched, waiting for him to follow shielded by the roommate who was now taking the hits for the target. A section of his weapon dislodged spinning across the sidewalk. He reached for it and I knew it was my last chance to act. It was quick, painless and might as well have been laser guided, three in the chest. It was over. He was a worthy adversary.

The Sparrow (3) proved the better bird over YAAARRR, Have You Seen Me Parrot? (0)

Dear Supremeo, Mustache, et Li'l Abs:

A kill report for your weary, but alert, eyes, on this sto'my night:

I write to report the demise of Team "YAAARRR, Have You Seen Me Parrot?"

Anyway, shut up at the back, I think it's "YAAARRR, Have You Seen Me Parrot?" is a cool team name. To eliminate this dynamic duo, I stood on the shoulders of giants, or at least on the shoulders of an evil genius plot dreamed up by their former assassin. The view was great. This fascinating scheme, which involved pentrating the lives, nay the very minds of Team Yaaarrr, led to a brief stake-out near one of the team member's apartments, followed by a wetting of both team members within moments of each other. The plot will not be revealed, for pure profit reasons. (Universal and MGM are battling it out for the rights to make a movie based on tonight's assassination: Coming, Summer 2007: "Awww Fuck Ye Got Me!" (Rated aRrrr)).

Team Yaaarrr are good people, so we adjourned to a neighbourhood bar for post-wetting pintage. We shared some intel. Fellow assassins will be curious to learn that team "YAAARRR, Have You Seen Me Parrot?" were next to Team Bwushwich Country Cwub in the assassination assignment queue that Sunday night in LIC so long ago. According to my ATAPOMS shipmates, Team BCC are all rather short, and like to wear geeky spectacles and plastic bags on their heads. We probably should all be embarassed that a team of Egon Spengler-Munchkin-Gimps with too much time on their hands are leading in this august tournament. Perhaps their Mommies (or Mommy) purposely never warned them about putting plastic bags on their heads. How very community minded of her.

Reschpect to Arrrrrrr!!!

A plus tard,

The Sparrow