SF2007

Acta Est Fabula.

February 12, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 10:02 PM

And so it ends...

I'll keep this short. I'm dead.

Here (thanks to NightThrasher's command over the English language and non-laziness) is how it happened:

It wasn't easy, but I did it. Down to the last 2 this time last week, Agent Mildred and I took turns to hunt each other for alternating 24-hour periods. Neither of us were able to liquidate the other, though there were some close calls.

On Saturday The Supreme Commander rolled into town to sort the shit out. And sort it out he did (although there was plenty of shit to sort and it was a messy job and there was actually more shit heaped on the other unsorted shit during the shit-sorting process.) We had to hunt the Supreme Commander. Whoever got him first would win. The race was on.

The SC let us know he was planning a shopping trip to the Westfield Mall in Downtown San Francisco. I expect he was in the market for a new velour tracksuit and perhaps something lacy for Mustache. The place was teeming with operatives. I had 6 dogged spotters on the ground and Mildred had dozens. My trusty and observant sidekick, Agent Release The Hounds eventually found Supreme with a couple of bully-boys waltzing through Nordstroms. RTH immediately called me with the special concise cryptic phrase we had devised for this exact situation, containing encoded identification and location references.

"Holy shit dude, fuck I think I've found him, aah, aah, in Nordstroms, next to the fucking whatyamacallit, the door"

"Are you sure it's him?", I replied, as I began a heart-racing dash through the mall.

"Well I dunno, but there's a guy here with a full length fur coat, slicked-back hair, aviator sunglasses, commando pants and two motherfuckingly nasty bovver-boys and he's walking around like he's the Queen of Sheba, oh, and he kinda smells of onions."

"Onions. That's him. NightThrasher inbound. Over."

Alas when I caught sight of the evil threesome it was just in time to see them enter the elevator up to Nordstroms. A brilliantly cunning move, and easier on the thighs than the stairs.

"Shit!" I said. "Fuck."

"Fuck" reverse-echoed Release The Hounds. "And Shit!"

I put out an APB to all my nefarious assistants the old-fashioned way. I yelled at them across the atrium.

"Everyone to Nordstroms, take different floors, I'll be in lingerie on 6."

I'm not quite sure when the numerous security guards in the mall cottoned to our presence, but it may have been at that moment.

Supreme Commander claims he saw me pounding my fists in frustration as he hid camouflaged, in a rack of women's fur coats, while I was maniacally and frantically running around the huge store. Running up the down-escalators, and down the up ones, for dramatic effect. (You can knock over more shoppers that way).

The ever-vigilant Release The Hounds found him again. This time I gave him more compelling reasons to not lose the commander, involving threats of nutsack electrocution and very large quantities of cold custard.

"Stay on him like yellow on tennis balls. Or is it green?"

Agent RTH was true to his skills, and were it not for a minor incident involving a devious henchman, a body check, a mad diarrhea-dash from SC, and afore-mentioned henchman falling into and knocking over a makeup display, and the Nordstrom security, and the eviction of RTH, and the police being called... then I'm sure he would NOT have lost SC once again. But he did. The ephemeral, ethereal and unethical SC gave team NightThrasher the slip twice in one day.

"The old Green-Apple-Splats dash to the bathroom with the trusty makeup-display trashing maneuver. Clichéd SC, but it worked. Touché."

"This fucker is good." I shouted to myself. "So that's how it's gonna be huh? Time to turn up the heat baby! Time to cook your goose motherfucker. Time to bring the Thrash."

I slowly and serenely scanned the faces of each of my unflinchingly loyal cohorts. Agent "The Comatizinatorizer" Anaesthesia, Agent "Shit-Faced" Shillelagh, Agent Release The Hounds, Agent Hockey-Stick Foreplay, and Agent This Girl Who Is My Ex-Girlfriend's Roomate.

"Let's go get some beers at that Thai place up the street." I barked.

The Supreme deigned to call me during the ensuing hiatus, while I was getting myself outside a large plate of Pad Thai and drinking ratpiss beers. In the course of our convivial conversation I learned that Supreme was of a similar gastronomical mindset but was instead sucking down a little sausage with his brew. Team NightThrasher significantly overtipped the waitress for dramatic effect, made a hurried exit and hailed a cab. I culled our numbers by two so we could all fit, and quickly pitched their bodies into a dumpster. Working on the sausage clue we made a dash to Schroeders then every Irish pub in the vicinity. Just as I was sticking my head into my fifth consecutive sausage hole I received a text stating the window was closed, and that more information would come at 8.30.

This was becoming a mental marathon. This was the lowest point in the game for me, and I nearly gave up. In fact, if it weren't for a soul-stirring, heart-warming speech, delivered by Agent Shillelagh, at that precise point, I believe I would have. Standing defiantly in the rain, and making references to Irish Heritage, The Souls of Our Fathers, and the Integrity of the Common Man, his poetic words lifted my spirit, and I was renewed once more. As a dotcom yuppie from New Zealand, I had no idea what he was talking about, but his tears and dedication moved me nonetheless.

I became a frenzy of activity. In one hour I culled my team by another two, went back to NTHQ, changed clothes, cleaned my guns, paid a few bills, walked the dog, thought about going back to college, tore back to Agent Shillelaghs place, AND found a parking spot in Hayes Valley on a rainy Saturday night. By the time Supreme's text-clue arrived we were sitting in The Shillelaghmobile, bristling with weapons, and revving the engine primed for battle.

The clue was as follows.

Next to its faux antiquity, youth and science triumphs. Arches of swans with the Lions at Bay cast a final shadow.

This was getting all Da Vinci Code and shit.

"I'm Tom Hanks Motherfucker!" I screamed. "Shillelagh, make haste to the Palace of Fine Arts and we shall kill tonight"

"And I'm not fooken Meg Ryan!" added the slightly confused Shillelagh.

Shillelagh then drove calmly and serenely to the Palace of Fine Arts, obeying every law of the road, showing courtesy to other drivers, and completely stopping at every stop sign. We made the 3 mile trip in a little under 5 minutes.

Arriving at the final arena Shillelagh slowed and I drop-rolled out of the car onto the road. I furtively entered the park. It was lashing with rain and the ground was sopping and muddy. My heart was in my mouth as I waded through the knee-deep water, all the while peering into the gloom and constantly flinching from the rain in my eyes.

Suddenly to my right I spotted the Muzzy Commander all stealthing it up behind a massive Corinthian pillar. He saw me too and pulled a diminutive piece from his robe.

"What you gonna do motherfucker?" Queried MC.

Note that super-soakers have a safety valve on them, which open and release when the pressure builds up to a dangerous level. The safety valve on my weapon was securely glued shut with epoxy resin. I could pump this gun up so much it would start to creak in protest. It was quite scary to hold, but it gave me a couple more feet.

"This." I replied, and unleashed a mighty torrent on the MC from an unfeasible range.

"Oh." he replied.

On through the wind and rain and dark I went. I made for the main Cupola. It seemed to me that a man with Supreme's flamboyance would be nowhere else. Peering around a huge stone column I looked into the cavernous space. There he was, in all his glory. Standing, floodlit, arms raised, imploring the very gods themselves, in the center of the mighty dome. He seemed 8 feet tall and invincible and I did shake in my boots at his visage. The image of the mighty paragon, in his purple suit and fur coat, will be forever burned in my mind.

He had a lone guard, but I guessed there would be more miscreants lurking in the shadows.

I reached down deep into the barren cupboard of my soul for the courage that was then required of me. I fossicked around in the refrigerator of valour, and looked between the cushions on the sofa of daring. I even tipped out the contents of the drawer of spunk, in the nightstand of temerity where I chuck any spare grit and fortitude, and my keys, when I get home from boozing. I would need every last ounce of audacity to attack this apotheosis of humanity.

I managed to scrounge up enough bravery, which allowed me to temporarily abate the terror-shakes and initiate an attack.

Cue slow-motion sequence.

I ran at him and his defender, letting out a great ancestral war cry which shook the walls of the mighty edifice. I launched a wayward bomb and he did respond in kind. I leapt over the exploding ordinance, remaining dry, and continued towards my quarry. The guard then fired a watery stream in my direction, the avoidance of which required immediate and hurried lateral movement. Again I was still dry. At this point SC hit the change-tactic button and ran screaming from the Palace. I made after him like a guy who's just spent 4 weeks of his fucking life in total obsessive paranoia about a water-pistol game that took over his life and really wants to win and now if he runs fast enough he can and it will be over. That's pretty fast. Supreme's fur coat began to loom closer in the night as I closed the distance between us. When within range of my customized not-safe-for-children-nor-adults water pistol, one of NightThrasher's fingers moved in the moonlight.

And StreetWars SF 2007 was ended.

At his death knell Agents appeared out of the stonework, and somewhere in the dark and stormy night, in the great city of San Francisco, 8 swarthy assassins stood huddled under a great copper dome, and did drink a toast to fear.

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SF2007

Hunt the best to be the best

February 10, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 06:07 AM

Sitting with a bottle of jack and a bucket of some of SF's finest fried chicken, we relax in one of our Shadow Government agent's penthouse suites, I toasted Supreme's arrival and we marveled at the San Francisco night sky.

"Mustache, you have a good city here, and your women are as fine as you say, but this rain shit sucks ass." He spits on the bear skin rug by the fireplace.

"It's all good old friend, all the better to wet some fuckers with."

We nod in agreement.

NT and Mildred. Here is your chance to take out the best to have a chance to be the winner.

Our first of many announced appearances will be at the Westfield Mall Saturday at 4pm. The whole mall including the adjoining shopping centre is safe. Alll existing safe zones also apply..

We will blog and text you our next appearances as the day progress. We don't want you skipping ahead now, do we :)

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SF2007

Son of A Fuck

February 9, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 04:38 AM

Game Status Update...
Players Remaining: 2
Current Kill Leaders: NightThrasher (7) and Zeno (7)

Do any of you have any inkling of how much of a pain in the fucking ass it is to have to surface your submarine in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and try to find a wireless signal? Well, trust me, it ain't easy...but I did it because I love (most) of you kids so much and I wanted to give you an update on the state of things...

Still no one dead.

You fucks are disappointing...if you can't kill one of your own, someone with low skills, how do you expect to kill me?

I'll either have to make it easy for you...or I'll just kill you both myself and keep the trohpy and cash for myself...not that I need it - I have plenty of awards already...but I kinda feel like I should bitch-slap your egos for disappointing me.

Also, I don't really approve of the doucherry, lies and complaining that's been going down. It makes my stomach turn. We're all about bending rules and walking the line on what is appropriate, but to try to douche yourself into a win is quite low class and y'all know I don't roll like that...

Thankfully, with my arrival I bring with me a "level" playing field and a disgust for fuckerring, so it should be a bit more awesome then the low level tactics and bitching that you cats have exhibited thus far.

As the first StreetWars that has whittled down the field to two players, I expected more from you. Though what should I have expected from bottom of the barrel "assassins" (it's in quotation marks cuz I have disdain for your skills!).

My phallic golden submarine will be surfacing near Fisherman's Wharf tonight at midnight. Soon as I arrive there I can be killed...and I can kill.

Should neither of you be able to find and kill me then, I will send or post a detailed schedule of my movements on Saturday.

Someone is gonna die. Someone is gonna win.

...and we're all gonna get trashed on Sunday at the wrap party.

Comments (340)

SF2007

...And Then There Were Two

February 6, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 05:06 AM

Game Status Update...
Players Remaining: 2
Current Kill Leaders: NightThrasher (7) and Zeno (7)

This past weekend I went back to visit one of my many teachers of skillifications, Toshitsugu Takamatsu, in his dojo on the snow capped peaks of Mount Hiei. My plans was to leave all the booze and sex and gold and falconeering and assorted luxury of my daily life and go into hardcore ninja training mode for a few days in preparation for Sudden Death.

So, I'm in Japan, missing the drink and hourly semen drainage I'm generally used to (don't worry about the excess man-juice, I took a moment's detour and stopped into one of them fancy Sex Hotels to relieve myself - I strongly suggest you go sometime if yer backed up...the Japanese are into some crazy shit), I trek up the fucking mountain in the cold, get to the doors, have to wait like 3 hours for those fucks to open up ('cause they had a new doorman and that cockfuck didn't recognize me, thought I was a regular chump begging for an audience), had to kill the chump what disrespected me by not opening the doors sooner...finally I'm chillin' with my homey TT, drinking some tea, about to get down to some bidness, when I get an urgent call from Mustache telling me that we got ourselves a ThunderDome situation.

Fuck, Yeah! This shit is gonna be like Thunderdome with water.

Word up. We have only two players left - Mildred (3) and NightThrasher (7). I'm postponing the start of Sudden Death for a few days and those two are now hunting each other in shifts. Perhaps this will be the first StreetWars tournament to end without a Sudden Death. Perhaps...

The two remaining assassins have until Friday, midnight to kill each other. I'm getting on my golden submarine, the Leif Ericson (designed and built by yours truly (or stolen from the US government, or given to him as a gift from the mafia, depending on whom you listen to)), presently, and will be heading to SF from Japan...when I arrive, you fools will have squandered your opportunity to make StreetWars history and Sudden Death will be on.

Keep in mind that when I arrive I will be extremely cranky, killy and full of cum, as I had to do all this needless travelling and you toolboxes wasted a prime opportunity. If you make me have to demonstrate my skills, I will likely kill you with copious amounts of water, possibly bukkake you and award myself the trophy for "Last Assassin Standing".

Don't make me have to cum on you...

Get to killin'

no kill stories today, but I'll give you something sexy tomorrow

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NYC 2006

StreetWars Wrap Party. BE THERE!

February 3, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 04:12 PM

Location: Laszlo's @ 2534 Mission St between 21st and 22nd st
Date: Feb 11th, Sunday
Time: 8pm and on

Don't miss the highlight event of the SF Assassin calendar. This is where all the top assassins come to see and be seen.

Features include:

• No bullshit cover charge. We are rich enough, thank you.
• The full original kill circle revealed, with photos!
• Awards ceremony
• Your chance to admire/make-out with the Commanders.

There will also be:

• Some awesome DJ, but I forgot who. But either way, guaranteed to make the girls freak
• Drink specials
• The always fabulous GoGo behind the bar.

We encourage:

• Bring thy friends. Everyone, player or non-player, is welcomed
• Costumes are good. Sexy costumes are better. Sexy costumes involving mustaches or gold, double betterer.
• Getting hella wasted.
• You might want to call in sick on Monday... just saying...

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SF2007

NightThrasher threatens to take over

February 3, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 03:56 PM

Game status update
Players remaining : 5
Kill leader: NightThrasher (7) and Agent Zeno (7)

Yes, NightThrasher (7) makes another kill tying Agent Zeno for the lead. Thirty two hours left to make his next kill. Can he do it?

The rogues are on the loose.

With so few days and so few players remaining, the Government has turned up the heat and released a few top notch Rogues into the field. Redeye and Rawdawg, winners of SF2005, proofs their pedigree once more and takes out Agent HuffnPuff (2). No shame in losing to one of the best HuffnPuff!

PS: Read NightThrasher's kill story today, the addendum is amusing and something me thinks most of us can relate to.

Tomorrow:

In today's update:

• NightThrasher (7) finds nothing sacred in HolyKrow (2*)
• Rogues, RedEye & RawDawg, blew HuffnPuff's (2) house down.
• Mildred (3) gave Judith Butler the kiss of his life.
• Dr Monkey (4) exited stage left after proving himself a very stealthy assain for my rogues.

Full story after the jump

Your daily kill stories

NightThrasher (7) finds nothing sacred in HolyKrow (2*)

NightThrasher Kills

I knew I had to do this one quickly, as my Thrashy senses told me forces were aligning against me. So I did. I learned that my quarry worked at the Presidio pool, and my state-of-the-art Windows NT machine told me this opened at 5.45am, which is about midday for me... Fortunately HolyKrow's residence leaks like the old rusty sieve I use for target practice, so serendipity was not required for access. Just a bit of jiggling. I guessed The Krow was on the early shift, and would return between midday and 2. He did, conveniently at 12.30, on my lunch break, and thence I did wet him.

Addendum:

On my way back to NTHQ I stopped at an ATM to replenish my dangerously depleted carousing funds. After completing the transaction, and slinking away, I heard a guy yelling my real name (which by now we all know is 'Siegfried'). Like a cougar (the cat kind, not the 30-something spinsters at The Royal Oak) I instantly set off at breakneck pace. But the stranger did pursue me vigorously, and he was moving faster than the donuts at a police convention. After two blocks I changed tactic and drop-rolled into a doorway, letting him have it with both weapons blazing. I shouted 'You'll never take me dry KMan!! Drown in Hell!!'. After wiping his glistening face, looking very puzzled and wet, he said 'Errr... you left your ATM card in the machine' and verily he did hand it to me. 'Oh...' said NightThrasher, 'Thanks!'

Judith Butler's death tale, in his own words

Last night, I foiled an attempt by my assassin with a firm blast to his unsuspecting head, discovering in the process that a friend and coworker was sleeping with him and had completely sold me out schedule and all. Since my assassin was a good sport and admitted that I squirted him first, I told him to forget the 24-hour safety rule. This overconfidence turned out to be my downfall: this morning, when I should have been completely safe, his lover/my coworker was driving him somewhere past where I was walking, randomly having changed my plans for the day to get a nice vegan brunch at Boogaloo's with friends, and he wasted me. That we crossed paths for the second time in history at such a random juncture was preposterous, and had I not overriden the 24-hour rule out of a sense of good sportsmanship and fun and, I admit, confidence in my awesome skills, I would have won the tourney and then come gunning for y'all.

But I'm gone, so thanks, it's been fun. I learned a lot, was able to use my superhuman assassin abilities for a practical purpose, and met some great people, who will respect and fear me forever.

Next year, my goal is ten (10) kills. After seeing some video action I'll send shortly and hearing unexaggerated tales of horror from my targets, you'll probably want to upgrade my status next time around; Supreme Assassin, perhaps. If not, I'll be happy to go gunnin' under the humble guise I did this first time, except to the max.

Looking forward to seeing you guys AND GIRLS come back soon.

For now, I'll graciously retreat into the shadows...

 

Comments (32)

SF2007

Even the mighty can fall

February 1, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 09:39 PM

Game status update
Players remaining : 9
Kill leader: Agent Zeno (7)

With great pride and respect, I announce the death of our kill leader, Agent Zeno (7). As is only proper, such a fine and skilled assassin was finally retired by our next best assassin, Night Thrasher (6).

Seven kills is no small feat, tying last year's SF kill leader, Sandra D'Angelo. Our all time leader in the category of solo kills is Robert Gribbins in London with nine.

NIghtThrasher, it is now up to you. Can you take over Agent Zeno's lead? Can you trump even the great Robert Gribbins?

Normally, we keep the kill stories after the jump, but in hopes of inspiring the remaining assassins, I will put NightThrasher's story here in the spot light for all to enjoy:

Night Thrasher (6) finally retires Agent Zeno (7)

Hot damn! It will be a cold day in Hades before anyone who walks this earth makes The Thrasher go to such lengths. My balaclava is off to Zeno, he knows his stealth. In the last week I have spent 5 freezing predawn hours lying under a rusty van amongst trash, detritus, and rat droppings, waiting and waiting. I have dressed in full official bike messenger regalia and covered innumerable miles of SF city streets, waiting and waiting. I have pursued, I have researched, I have divined and I have augured. I have donned formal business attire and I have waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. This man has taken from me countless hours of my life. Hours spent staring, entranced, meditative, envisioning the kill... (and occasionally wondering if I left the iron on).

Today it was realised. The Great Zeno (7) has fallen.

Don't forget this sunday:

In today's update:

• Agent Zeno (7) makes Kobayshi (2) his final tribute.
• Night Thrasher (6) finally retires Agent Zeno (7)
• Agent Nashor (3) falls sadly to an unnamed assassin
• One kill under review.

Full story after the jump

Your daily kill stories

Agent Zeno (7) makes Kobayshi (2) his final tribute.

It sure as hell has been long enough since I last wrote one of these here emails. Between the celebratory whiskey and the fog of time, The Bookie's going to end up docking me literacy points.

Should I even begin to chronicle the pain that Mark 7 caused me? Lucky my ass. When this all is said and done and in the past, I'm going to ask that girl why she didn't report being out of town this past weekend. The marathon stakeout I endured was based on the trust inbred-in-assassins that any out-of-town excursions would be reported. I can't blame a girl for wanting a break here or there, but I could have saved myself the risk and the pain and increased my overall enjoyment by remaining indoors with my monogamous harem, as opposed to, well, I digress. In the words of my rival: "A day wasted on others is not wasted on one's self."

Seven.

This is the number of kills to which I have raised the bar.

Tonight, I must report with a certain sense of remorse that Agent K0bayashi has shat his last shit. It is a shame, Nabeshin, that you had to bring your own spree to an end. It is also a shame that your amplified curses have lost you face with your housing association. May your hypercharged spirit get its chance to defuse. Otherwise, that old lady is surely going to have your ass handed to you.

If there were one thing I felt the need to be proud of tonight, it is the successful application of an age-old trick. You see, within Target's apartment building, near his Unit's door, I found myself a little nook where the garbage chute rests. I had a wonderful view of Target's door and of the elevator which would likely bring him to the proper level, but there was one problem: if I focused my attention forward, towards his door and the lift, I would completely leave myself open to a discrete attack from behind, where the "Fire Exit" stairs rested. Certainly, under normal circumstances, no one uses these stairs, but StreetWars provide no normal circumstances.

Thanks to inspiration that must go back many generations, I found in my pocket a quarter, which I was able to balance very carefully on top of the stairwell doorknob, above the tile floor. This allowed me to keep my attention tuned towards the default entrance, but immediately alerted me to any stairwell movement.

Since tonight's full moon bestowed upon me the greatest luck, my Target did not only choose to arrive via my booby-trapped stairwell...his drunkenness forced him to waste his time and attention *picking up the dropped quarter*. In an instant, I fell upon him, both guns blazing. He did return fire, but far, far too late to change his fate.

Maybe it's the second whiskey. Maybe it's the lack of solid foods. Bring in the bottled lightning, a clean tumbler, and a corkscrew.

Seven notches on my belt, seven notches ticking away. Life is made of ever so many partings welded together.

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