Like Donkey Kong, It Is Now On!

You ever see the Faces of Death where they have those dudes put a live monkey in this weird contraption and then bash its head in and eat fresh brain? Well, that's exactly what Nahsor (2) did to Monkey Head (0) except he didn't actually bash her skull in or eat her brain...so maybe not exactly like Faces of Death, but you get where I'm coming from

Dear beloved shadow government,

It is with great please that I inform you of the demise of Monkey Head. After days of stalking, I was becoming restless, and just as I was beginning to gather up a harem to offer you, I decided to give it one last chance. I pulled up to Monkey Head's house around 9:30, parked across the street and waited for half an hour until a spot opened in front to the buildings door. I took the car around the block and as I turned on the street I saw her opening the door. Knowing that every moment was precious, I sped up, pulled over jumped out and blasted the girl. Bring on the next dry sucka.

-Agent Nahsor

Zeno liquidly sexed the anus of Mr. Opolis. Now the crafty killer is running for kill leader...stay alive.

With pleasure I report in tonight that I've made my third kill in as many days, as my most recent Target has felt the blade of mine weapon, the sharp, wet...thing that I carry around.

Also with pleasure, I can report that this Target did not moisten idly - he was the first of my Marks to return fire, and it took me time and effort twentyfold compared with my last kill. I must respect a man of such complexity.

The story began last night when I took down Wolf Bait. Unfortunately, Dog Food did not have on him my next assignment, and as a condolence, he offered up my new Target's name and place of residence, and even went so far as to drive me to said residence, where I began my initial stakeout. Though I denigrate him for the ease with which I took him out, Pet Chow did go out of his way to further my cause, and I must thank him appropriately. Anyway, the stakeout we're now discussing did not begin smoothly. Though my Target's home was clearly unoccupied, I had not yet had a chance to do any research on him, and I did not know what he looked like. I HAD NOT SEEN A SINGLE PICTURE. The only intel I had told me to expect him on a bike, and even this was obtained unsolicited from a dubious source, a man who deals in the information black market, who could just as easily be working with the man holding my name. Nevertheless, high on the endorphins from my last kill, I decided that I was armed sufficiently, plenty alert, and that my balls were too big to fit in my pants, and certainly too big to give up yet.

And thus it was that I soaked my first civilian - the upstairs neighbor who was unfortunate enough to be a bicycle rider himself. I must carry this shame with me as I continue my life, and use the grief to power my drive.

After 2 and a half hours on this first stakeout, halfway through which I doused the biker - someone else arrived home, claiming to be my Target's roommate. Not eager to repeat my mistake of just an hour before, I chose to believe him and call it a night. In retrospect, this was the right choice.

Tonight, with only slightly more research, but aided greatly by several photos, I decided that I must make a second attempt on Target's home. Again, this proved to be another torturous 2+ hour endeavor, including another run-in with the unfortunate civilian from last night, who managed to get away dry this time. Just before I gave up all hope, thinking that my Target must have found another home to which to retire, telltale headlights shone in my direction, and a suspicious figure emerged. I could not make out his face, and the cut of his coif was unexpected, but there was no mistaking the menace he held under his overcoat - a menace full of life-taking liquid. Upon sensing this threat, my instincts knew no hesitation, and my guns were drawn and fired before he could completely fumble his weapon out from behind his coat. There was a moment of confusion where my Target believed he had life left in him and managed to eek out a few shots himself, but they fell short on both timing and distance.

And thus it is that I may have found my way neck-and-neck with Night Thrasher, five for five. I am honored to have a competitor who also feels the constant need to soak with precision and accuracy, and I look forward to the day when our skills, wits and weapons will be matched.

In the meantime, I await my next Target.

Victorious whiskey always as my muse,

-Agent Zeno

Boris the Blade (1) went all Meteorological on Raining Wet Death (0)...and was later Meteorologicalized himself.

On Jan 18, at 11:48pm team Raining Wet Death was rained out by GLORIOUS SON OF MOTHER RUSSIA: Me.

It took only 6 hours of recon work and 30 min to execute the perfectly planned operation - codename "DIE, CAPITALIST PIGS, DIE!!!" Out of three members of the Raining Wet Death one was a geek working two jobs, another was a geek working one job, and yet another was an unemployed geek pretending to be working (I guess, in hiding). This team was inferior to my elite assassination training with the most superior secret service in the world – KGB, Red Alert unit. It took almost no time to find the weakest link, conduct reconnaissance and execute...

My victim did not want to get wet easy - there were arguments, attempted negotiations, and a lot of begging involved. Next morning, coming to his senses, my undisputed victory was acknowledged by my mediocre, but honorable adversary.

On Jan 21, at 8:42pm member of competing Russian secret service “ Natascha“
has pleasantly surprised me with refreshing spray proving once again: no one
can kill a Russian but another Russian! She was provided with info on my
current mark, inherited from Raining Wet Death.

End of transmission.

-- Boris The Blade