Chicago 2007

Dead + Party = Fun!

August 7, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 02:30 PM

Players Remaining: 1

I am dead.

Well...more wet really but, as you well know, it is all the same.

We may (almost) all be dead and our pride might still be wet from our drenchings in StreetWars, so come revive thyselves with me in the StreetWars Chicago wrap party.

EVENT:
StreetWars Chicago Wrap Party

LOCATION:
Liar's Club
1665 W Fullerton Ave
Chicago, IL 60614
(773) 665-1110
http://maps.google.com/maps?ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&q=liar's+club&near=Chicago,+IL&fb=1&view=text&latlng=41925140,-87669984,13949802712650208184

DATE:
Tuesday Aug 7th, 8pm
8/7 at 8pm if you will.

WHAT TO EXPECT:

Come drink and party with your assassin kins
Make out with the Supreme Commander
Meet the winner of the tournament
And also get drunk and contract the latest and coolest STD the morning after.

All good times.

WHAT NOT TO EXPECT

The Mustache Commander - Alas, that pesky North Korea is negating on a ASIANR-NAFHA facial hair treaty once more and our revered commander is now off to kick Kim Jung Ill's ass in golf. He sends his worst regards and wishes you assassins good drinkings and many happy accidental pregnancies in the after math of the party.

See you fuckers there.

Comments (2769)

Chicago 2007

The End?

August 6, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 08:10 PM

Players Remaining: 3
Current Kill Leader: TIE: Dos Lobos (5), Martin Levin (5) and A.L.I.C.E. (5)

A.L.I.C.E. is dead.

She was able to out brain you fuckers and find me.

This ends tonight.

I will be calling you all personally to let you know where to be for the final (hopefully) showdown.

1 hour.

Be ready.

Near W Montrose and Clark.

I will be leaving the hotel shortly.

Comments (7)

Chicago 2007

Der Update: In Which I tell You Fools Some Of What I'm Up To Today

August 6, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 12:32 PM

Players Remaining: 4
Current Kill Leader: TIE: Dos Lobos (5), Martin Levin (5) and A.L.I.C.E. (5)

NOTE:
I will be updating this entry via the comments all day.

The hotel here has a very nice sauna room.

As I was sitting in the steam room, my considerable manhood exposed, I was wondering if I'd be faster to draw on or pee on someone if they came in...or if they would just be too stunned by my penal beauty that they would just stand, mouth agape and give me time to consider a choice...

Alas, no one came...and now I'm back in my room, done expelling the evil that I invited into my body the previous night, and considering what my next steps will be...

I think I might go out for a coffee...

Then at 5pm I have some set plans that I will let you know about...

Assuming I'm still alive. Apparently, a bunch of you are roaming around the hotel...

Supreme.

Comments (5)

Chicago 2007

Observations

August 6, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 04:09 AM

Players Remaining: 4
Current Kill Leader: TIE: Dos Lobos (5), Martin Levin (5) and A.L.I.C.E. (5)

My night involved drinking, porn stars, seeing a couple of you fools and a near rumble with an African man.

How was yours?

Apparently, some of you need to be more on point with yer observational skills. I came nearly face to face with one of you and not a glimmer of recognition. It was disappointing...particularly as I was hanging out with some deceased players...

I even followed you around for a bit, simply because I was curious to see the foolery you were up to. A shame you could not make me.

Tut, tut...better luck next time...

I'm staying quite close to place once almost called Taxi...I don't stray far from my New York roots.

n
190
jb

I will give you more once I awake...

Oh...also...

Pussnboots killed Tso Tso Def

=[

Comments (2)

Chicago 2007

Sudden Death!

August 5, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 12:29 PM

Players Remaining: 5
Current Kill Leader: TIE: Dos Lobos (5), Martin Levin (5) and A.L.I.C.E. (5)

SUDDEN DEATH!!!

Like my scrotum here it is in a nutshell:

The following are the remaining players, in drenching order:

Der Kaiser
Martin Levin
Pussnboots
Tso Tso Def
A.L.I.C.E.

PAY ATTENTION HERE:

I promised you shit would change in Sudden Death.

Like Highlander, there can be only one.

As of right now, TEAMS NO LONGER EXIST.

Your targets are still active and only uncontested kills will count.

But...

That's not your main goal...

To be the best, you've got to beat the best.

I am the final target, you wet me, you win.

Oh!

I almost failed to mention...like any Head of State, I will have a security contingent with me (most of the time - hehe) and they can irrigate you. They can be neutralized for 30 minutes (only applies to the assassin that personally neutralized the said body guard. The body guard is still free to wettify all other players), but they can also take you out of the game by wetting you...

Also, I have THREE (3) additional safe zones:
Strip Clubs
Porn Shops
Liquor Stores

NOTE:

Only I am safe there, not you - unless you are buying me lapdances, porn or liquor...in which case, you are safe there too...

You will get more intel on me and my movements daily.

For now all you need to know is that tonight I plan to enjoy drinks and tits.

It shouldn't be too hard to find me - I will be hitting, in no particular order at least one of these joints:

Delilah's
Liar's Club
Bob Inn
Skylark
Happy Village

Come buy me a drink, bitches.

This shit is gonna separate the punks from the playaz.

Let's play.

Supreme Commander
Shadow Government

Oh...and after the jump, peep A.L.I.C.E.'s kill #5.

Thank goodness for condominium demo-showings.

I pulled up to the building of my targets, and there she was, hungry for a condo sale. I waited for the rep to hightail it up to her "showroom", and rang the buzzer, asking to see the demo condo of their building.

"Oh, of COURSE you can see the demo, come up to the third floor!" The voice on the intercom exclaimed with money-grubbing glee. As I approached the elevator, I considered to actually see the demo condo, and almost felt guilty for not completing my role as "potential condo purchaser", but pressed the second floor button in the elevator, hoping she wouldn't worry to much about her potential- sale never showing up.

I couldn't believe how easy that was.

Twenty minute trip to their location, 2 minutes to park, and less than 30 seconds to gain entry to their building. Ha. No need for climbing, jumping, ninja-ing myself up... this kill would be easy as pie.

I found a nook in between the stairwell and garbage room, a door and a half away from my dudes' door. To pass time I busted out my deck-o- cards, took off my sandals, and played about 4 bajillion games of god- damned solitaire while nearly dying of boredom...

...and three hours had passed.

Footsteps were approaching in the stairwell, the guys had stopped in front of the stairwell door, and were preparing to enter the hallway. I could here them discuss the plan-- whether their guns were out, who went first, etc.

And oh-so-slowly, the door opened, and I shot, hitting the non-team leader in the face. Immediately, the door slammed, and I yelled, "I KNOW I got ONE of you!".

"Okay, okay... you got Adrian!" a voice cried on the other side of the door.

I didn't respond.

Instead, I ran down the hall to another nook, across from their door-- hoping they would think I had gone around the building to nail them in the stairwell itself.

The door opened, and the guy I had shot came out...to avoid any dispute, I blasted him again. He confirmed his defeat, and stood near his door, unsure of what to do next.

The team leader remained in the stairwell, pushing against the door to prohibit my entry. i waited silently a few moments, and sure enough, the door opened.

It was a draw--- with the exception that my gun was spraying a stream of lethal liquid and his was simply being held-- I had NAILED him right as the door opened.

SUCCESS!

Two more players booted from the game... and it all unfolded so sweetly.

The boys invited me in, unpacked their smashed groceries (from being dropped as I busted them), took some pictures, and we hung out for an hour or so. Surely the nicest assassins I've encountered, as well as the best looking (they made me say that), it was a pleasure to take their lives.

I'm pleased to report that the boys of Advanced Placement have flunked "Staying Dry: 101".

Comments (7)

Chicago 2007

Eschatology, Bitches!

August 3, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 11:10 PM

Players Remaining: 6
Current Kill Leader: TIE: Dos Lobos (5) and Martin Levin (5)

I was honestly kinda hoping a bunch of you remaining fools would have shown up to the killing fields and thinned out the herd a bit...

Alas, just like your parents, you leave me disappointed.

The tournament has never ended without Sudden Death...I was kinda hoping you would be able to do me the favor of ending this early but, unsurprisingly, Chicago is not up to the task...

...although there is a bit more time left...

Still...I have just about no faith in you being able to pull it off...so...

Like Santa, I'm coming to town...

Now, usually, I let you hunt me and first person to kill me wins...that is not changing...

However, due to my disrespect for your collective skills, I might do some hunting as well to make this a bit more interesting for me. So, I might very well be rolling through to see some of you and make you wet the way only I can...

I will also have sex with your mothers.

Let's get it on.

00110000 00110100 00110000 00111000 00110000 00110111 00001101 00001010 00110100 00110001 10110000 00110101 00111000 00100111 00110100 00110011 00100010 01001110 00100000 00101000 00110100 00110001 00101110 00111001 00110111 00111000 00110110 00110000 00110011 00101001 00001101 00001010 00111000 00110111 10110000 00110101 00110100 00100111 00110001 00110111 00100010 01010111 00100000 00101000 00101101 00111000 00110111 00101110 00111001 00110000 00110100 00111000 00110100 00110001 00101001 00001101 00001010 00110001 00110001 00110011 00110000

In the update:

Martin Levin (5) used his +25 stealth cloak to give the "Angry Dragon" to 3 assassins in 2 days...impressive but, you are not a Jedi yet...

And a number of other older kill stories...including another brilliant kill from A.L.I.C.E.

With my partner out of the game, a busy work weekend coming up, and e- mail bitch-slaps from the guy I was trying to track down, it was necessary to get my ass in gear to hunt down and kill the Team Leader we had been assigned.

And as it turned out, he lives in the mother fuckin' 'hood.

Being the oh-so white girl from Detroit that I am, I thought I would be able to, you know, blend in with surroundings. I mean, I know the words to most mid-nineties rap songs, can totally chug a forty of St. Ides, and look somewhat good in a wife beater... gang-banger, schmang- banger, I was going in, neon colored squirt gun in tow, to shoot my target.

As I hid behind a tree a few steps from my target's door, the congregation of wily kids down the street were yelling and hitting their prized jalopies with beer bottles, baseball bats, and other sorts of materials, looking, as they say, "hard". They were a half a block up, far enough to avoid rape, assault, and most of their shitty reggaeton and well-past-prime early 90's club music, but they still scared the shit out of me.

At one point, Foolio and company sped off, screaming something about a "mother fucker" and "popping a cap", and to my relief, there was silence.

I could devote my time to staring at my dude's door instead of praying for my life.

That was, until the "pop! pop!" of gun shots rang out a few streets away, then approaching squealing of brakes, and the rumble of the neighborhood thugs peeling back to their hide-out.

Seconds later, a bleeding, shirtless kid and his older, taller mentor of gang-bangery walked by, stopped less than two feet away from me (at this point I was crouched down hiding behind a car) and discussed how the shirtless kid had just successfully fucked someone up and how "dope" the series of events had been. It was a proud moment for both of them...and a terrifying one for me.

I suddenly got the feeling that no matter how many renditions of "Gin and Juice" I could perform, these kids were dumb asses, BLEEDING dumb asses, and I was then ready to get the fuck out of there.

I hopped in my car, and lit the last "surveillance cigarette" of the day.

"I'll sit here five more minutes", I told myself.

Halfway through, there was movement at my target's door. I couldn't believe it. Two girls emerged, suspiciously looking for potential assassins lurking near his house. Moments later, there he was, or at least I hoped it was him, shuffling out his front door, ready to stroll down the street.

I turned on my car, and slowly drove past the hoodlums who were, strangely enough and quite literally, dancing to what I could make out as, "James Brown Is Dead", by L.A. Style, in the middle of the god-damned one-way street.

I pulled up to the main road, hoping to catch up with my target a few blocks up, if not on his side street, before he could get in a car and drive away... and there they were, casually strolling up the street to Blockbuster.

I didn't want to blow it...I hid my gun, and casually followed them into the store. They were looking at the new releases, and I was poking around in the "family" section.

My heart was pounding, and all I could think was, "I hope that's him.
I'm going to feel like such a fuckin' jackass if I shoot the wrong
guy in the middle of a video store."

I turned the corner, and with my mini neon green gun, let a few squirts of a sad, air-filled stream splatter on the sleeve of his jacket.

"Uh, you're dead..." I said in a somewhat questioning tone.

He gave a sigh of relief, and said, "Thank God. I thought this was never going to be over!"

We discussed the lack of blog-having, the fact that his target lived outside of the city, that my previous was a complete douche- bag, and that no one in their right fucking mind would ever want to park their ass in his neighborhood, especially in the middle of the night, armed with a super-soaker.

It was apparent that 24/7 assassin-oriented-living proved to be too much for him by hour 2,016.

I snagged his card, and skipped off to my car to tell Bagman the great news-- I had survived my stake-out, and while a somewhat boring kill, three more chumps had been eliminated. Hoorah!

Maryanne.

It started on Monday, a quick kill to a team member because I did not read the blog to find out who was the Team leader. The kill was sweet and it felt good to be in the game. My guy had spotted me, but I fled the scene when my cover was blown, only to return after a lap around the block to find the silly geezer had locked himself out on the first day of street wars! I quickly seized the moment and got him good in the stomach.

My Team leader was a different story all together. After stalking this girl for hours and hours starting from Tuesday afternoon at her home and Wednesday at her office like a pedophile at the school gates I had waited and loitered. It was not until Thursday that I actually got close to wetting her. She had just returned for the night and it was go time. I saw her get out of the car and like a school boy getting his balls wet for the first time it was over before it even started. She was back in the car and off again wheel spins and all.

Friday was a wash as she had spotted me in my disguise stalking her on her city block then waiting several hours outside her home for nothing. But then Saturday came, oh sweet, glorious Saturday! The sun was out and I was ready for some serious hunting. After a week of emails back and fourth/phone calls/dressing up, dodging the day job, there she was like an innocent bunny that had just seen the fox and I ran like a rat down a drain pipe to catch her. One shot- Miss. Second shot- in the back.

Job done.

Next!

7:06am

"You lookin' for hydro?"

I am stunned. My accomplice is crouched behind a car with Apophys and I am sitting on the ground between two others across the street with Aqumentus poised; this gentleman is asking me is I am looking for hydro.

"You want to get wet?"

He is huge, the way you think of mountains as huge, he is loud and he is coming my way. I must look confused because he starts to laugh. I don't know what he wants and he is not my target. When my accomplice and I slipped into position in the street outside of Big Daddy's house were were not spotted. It is only now the he has seen me.

He is not my target, he is asking me if I want to get wet and he is approaching rapidly.

If I unleash on this guy and he is not part of our unique sect I am pretty certain I will have my apology accepted by way of clenched fists and the anger of a life under the law. I assume this because for the past three days we have been here and for the past three days we have seen a massive police presence in the neighborhood.

"Hydro, dog - you tryin' to get some hydro?"

In point of fact I am. Yes, large intimidating guy barrelling toward me with your hand in the front of your pants and the type of gate Sean Combs works nights in the mirror to perfect, I am looking for hydro. I have no idea what you mean by this, but I mean that I am looking to engage in water warfare. Though I am not, indeed, looking to get wet, as it where, I am definitely looking for hydro.

I have said nothing aloud thus far and my confusion seems to have lit him up.

"Chronic? You wanna' chief? You smack that shit? Whatchu' lookin' for?"

Fuck. I think I get it and it scares the shit out of me. Didn't Denzel Washington ask Ethan Hawke, in Training Day, if he gets 'wet'? Wasn't that a reference to PCP? Is this guy asking me if I want to purchase angel dust?

My experience with narcotics is limited almost completely to films. I have never done an illicit substance in my life. In fact, up until my first meeting with His Venerated Eminence the Mustache Commander, the only alcohol I had ever consumed came in cough syrup or breath spray.

"Naw, man."

I say 'naw' because it seems contextually appropriate. I'm already a white dude sitting on the ground between two cars in the middle of the street in this gentleman's neighborhood, so why I consider that a 'context' at all is beyond me but at this point I am starting to fear for my actual life.

I look over to see if my accomplice is seeing any of this. I am met with a stare that says 'if that giant motherfucker takes one more step toward you I am jumping over this car and going for his throat' and I am the more confident for it.

"We're lookin' to kill a bitch. White dude. He'll be comin' out soon. Fucker's gonna' get it."

6:00am

We've just pulled up into Big Daddy's neighborhood. We have watched him do this routine for two days. Sometime between now and 7:45 he will leave his apartment unarmed and make his way to his vehicle alone. Unarmed and alone.

We were going to take him yesterday but were seconds late on the decision and realized that the attempts had a chance at failure too great for this stage in the game. Today, however, he will meet his end.

My phone starts vibrating. It is Eternitygirl. I do not answer. She is likely wondering why I am not home right now, getting ready for work. She, likely, has just woken up and found the bed beside her empty of me. She leaves no message, no 'hello, wonderful boy'. Things like this have been sapped from our relationship over the two and a half weeks. Our lives are procedural now; we always know where the other is and our hands are always accounted for. Sleep comes at the cost of security and each day we sleep less. Contact is a matter of factual recursion and those little loving procurements we have come to expect from one another have been replaced with the business of killing.

4:48am

I re-watch the video. You see, Big Daddy made a video. He wants to win 'best visual kill' and couldn't bear to keep it in his pants until the game is done. My vast ability to look into the lives of my victims brought me to this video and it is a veritable gold mine. His face can be seen. His accomplice, whom I had incorrectly assumed was a gentleman, can be seen. His car. His daily routine. Most valuable, however, is his kill strategy.

I watch as he has his accomplice burst from hiding to attack his target and in the confusion gets in his own shot. I watch as the victim is faced with attack from two sides and seems frozen at the prospect. I re-wind and watch again, a plot of poetic justice gaining pace in my head.

The end of this video, though not as tactically informative, does provide a bit of intrigue. You see, after his kill, Big Daddy gloats that he will get his next victim. Get her even it it takes an eternity. This ham-handed statement is made as pictures of my fiancee splash in and out to some absolutely terrible music.

Once I kill him I will have to face her.

7:08am

I am trying to explain to my new-found drug dealer friend that I am not actually trying to kill someone, a task he had offered to help with for a few 'bones', as he called them (is it really, merely, all about the Benjamins?). If the last two days are any indication, I have about twenty-five minutes to get rid of this guy before Big Daddy comes out to his car.

"It's a game. I shoot this guy and he gives me his card, then I shoot who he was supposed to shoot and so on and so forth until I win. There is money involved, it is just for fun - no actual killing - and I absolutely NEED to be secretive about this."

He is telling me that I am in a drug corridor, that the police are out looking for him and his type and if they find me on the street like this I will be snagged. Worse, he points out, my accomplice and I look like undercover police. So much so, in fact, that he approached ready to put me down and take off. I am luck, he says, that I didn't get plugged this morning by the cops or the crooks alike. He goes on to say that if I had come up on him all sneaky as I was doing...

In an instant my target is looking me right in the fucking eyes. Where the hell did he come from? I am sitting on the ground, Aquamentus at the ready, there is a giant gang banger in front of me and it is twenty minutes too soon for any of this to be happening.

He is walking briskly to his car and will not take his eyes off of me. I try to act as though this isn't suspicious, me sitting there on the ground across from his car talking to the local drug element. He is going to get in and drive away. He is going to call, SMS or email, as he has in the past, to gloat of his escape. It is going to hurt like goddamned fire.

I glance over to my accomplice who has had his eyes on my gang banger debacle from the start. He is protecting me and doesn't at all notice my target.

"A motherfucker gonna' shoot you if you creepin' around the hood like that..."

Then it happens. Just as Big Daddy opens his car door my accomplice leaps over the car. The target has been seen!

Apophys, Dire Maul of Anacreon, is loosed upon Big Daddy as though the fist of some great ancient god. My accomplice is sprinting, having slid over the the trunk of his cover vehicle, and a searing stream of wet death crackles in the air. Just as Big Daddy closes his door he is hit, and hit well. His shoulder is made a mess of and so too is his arm. In his extreme momentum my accomplice overshoots Big Daddy's car and leaps into the air a leap of victory.

In the car Big Daddy swears. I am up and walking toward him as he pounds the steering columns and dashboard. The gang banger is smiling wildly.

Contrary to his gloating communication, arrogant video and current rage at being hit, Big Daddy opens his car door and admits defeat. In a deeply gentlemanly act he congratulates my accomplice and offers him a hand in victory.

"Yeah man, thanks. There's one thing, though..."

My accomplice spies me walking briskly toward them. Aquamentus, the Little Death, is unsheathed.

"I'm not your assassin."

A short look of recognition strikes Big Daddy's face. He is shaking hands with, in the open, someone that is not his attacker.

A few short steps away I fire Aquamentus.

"I am."

The gang banger adds, "This is your target? Yo, dude, you just got SMOKED!"

Poetic justice served, the two man attack reenacted for its progenitor, we shake hands and part ways. Back in our vehicle I realize that this has all happened twenty minutes early. I realize that Eternitygirl, who - had this taken as long as we had expected - was to be long gone by the time I returned is still at home.

I am 5 minutes away and she is leaving for work in ten...

To Be Continued....

Where did he go? I had just seen him running down the stairs, I behind him with my gun drawn. I ran westward on Van Buren St. while the rest of my team, two other agents ran east towards State. My heart was pumping pure adrenaline; blood and oxygen were in short order and quickly running out of whatever supplies my body had left. I quickly glanced around to prevent being shot first, although my even bigger fear was that I might accidentally get nervous and shoot someone other than my target.

He couldn't have gone this way, my gut instinct told me so, maybe I was such a good hunter, I could smell his fear in the other direction… so I backed around the way I came and tried to catch up to the rest of my team. I run across the street as cars almost mow me down, I don't care, my prey is near and I am ready to destroy him. I see some blue, police line "do not cross" barriers, the wooden kind they use to hold back mobs of people and quickly jump over them like a fucking 250-pound kangaroo, as I land, weapon still in hand, I hear someone go "Shhhh…" and I turn around to face…….

Someone familiar… ah, a co-worker, someone I knew in my normal 9-5 job, someone that did not know about this dark side of me. I managed to yell out a "hey" as I kept running… the target was nowhere to be found… I ran further north, hoping to spot him; I glanced behind me quickly on the off chance that…… oh lord, he was right behind me about half a block down. How the hell? I was quickly learning that what you see in the movies is not what happens in the real world. This was unrehearsed and intense. Kill or be killed.

I pretended not to see him and walked up a bit, I knew I was too far for either of us to have a clear shot at each other, so I hid. A large advertisement bolted to the sidewalk hid my large frame. Gun still drawn. Sweat running down my face and down my chest, adrenaline consuming me as if my body was gasoline and it, the fire and yet not a soul seemed to notice this "dance of death" happening in front of them. You'd be surprised how many people are oblivious to situations happening right before their eyes.

I ran around the sign, peeked and noticed he could not see me; I was now running in the street towards him, hunched as to not be spotted. He was eyeing a set of stairs leading into the subway but for some reason, would not go downstairs. Why?

20 feet, 15 feet, 12 feet, 8 feet….. I was closing in fast. Shit! He spotted me, no time to think! Stop, aim carefully, exhale and shoot, just as you were taught. I squeezed the trigger only to find that I missed him by 8 to 12 inches! I started attempting to follow and realized I almost fell forward! This was not an ordinary staircase; this was an exit escalator, leading up! No wonder he had taken so long to decide whether to go down or try another form of escape. He was gone. The rest of my team followed in hot pursuit, going off to locations where we thought he might be found, I however decided that this amateur assassin would call it a day and go back into the shadows, before the local law enforcement, of which there was absolutely no shortage in downtown Chicago, decided I needed to be off the streets.

Numerous Attempts…….

And / or surveillance activities were performed over the following days by members of my crew of which I cannot speak in detail. A few days went by, before we had our second, real attempt.

As I stated before, many covert ops took place in the interim but I believe you want my report to detail the meat and potatoes of the operation.

We were unsuccessful in our attempts at his place of residence and decided to bring the war back near his job. We decided that despite other casualties [of war] which could arise, today was the day, this crew would prevail.

I walk into his place of business and say hello to him, does he not recognize me? It appears not.

"Chris?"

"?"

"Are you ready for today?"

"Ah…. If we must have another go at it, I guess so"

"Good. I will be waiting for you outside"

I did just that. When he walked out of his job, I walked and talked with him both of us wondering, who would die that day I'm sure. We waited for the train together, like old pals. His phone rang, apparently his girlfriend was wondering whether he was safe. I thought it to be, rude of me to listen in so I tried my best to occupy myself with other details, never losing focus of my target, however I did catch one very pleasing comment that he said to his love.

"I'm just standing here waiting for the train…… with my assassin. Yeah, he's here with me".

Ah those words filled me with joy. We sat across from each other once on the train, making small but meaningful conversation. I was truly impressed by my target and had grown to respect his prowess at being so elusive. 20 or so minutes went by as the elevated trains made its stops throughout the city. It started to fill with more and more people, making it evermore difficult for me to be 100% sure I would not lose him, were he to try and exit quickly. At the next stop I saw him eyeing the doors nervously, there were way too many people between him and I; I was sardine #6 and he was at the number one spot, how would I ever make it off the train in time!? Ah… good thing I was not carrying out this operation alone. He bolted out of the train and onto the train platform, I used brute force and shoved people out of my way, feeling a mound-full of flesh as I pushed someone, her breast was in my hand. How convenient. Focus. I exited the train behind him and chased him towards the stairs leading down to the street. My fellow agent, well aware, was also behind us. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, we split up and ran after him. After 6 minutes of walking mindlessly, looking under cars, in alleyways and pretty much anywhere else I thought a person could hide, I received a phone call from my operative.

"He got me."

"What?! Fuck!"

"Yeah, he got me; meet me at Chicago and Orleans"

"On my way"

We met and as I walk towards Agent Snoopy Spy he says:

"Yeah man, he got me……"

"Dammit, I cant believe this!"

"………but not before I GOT HIM!"

"Ah! You bastard! You got him! Fucking A! This is awesome!!!"

And this is how "The Truth" was taken down and we were one step further into a world of espionage and assassination within the Shadow Government.

Agent Nightshadow

Comments (635)

Chicago 2007

The Hard Kill

August 2, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 01:16 PM

Players Remaining: 7
Current Kill Leader: Dos Lobos (5)

...and so, the kill leaders have fallen.

Not all kills come easy, not all kills are accomplished without some injury to the assassin...sometimes you got to get dirty, sometimes you have to get a bit scratched up...and sometimes it doesn't work.

Some of you would give up...

Others, the assassins that truly live up to the name will try again...

It was not an easy kill but, much like the kill posted about prior, it was a glorious one. So glorious that it deserves its own posting. Which is what this is.

A kill fueled by frustration and liquor...but mostly liquor.

This is something I can truly appreciate...the "sauce" when used correctly can sharpen your killing instincts, help you do things you wouldn't have otherwise and numb pain, which in A.L.I.C.E.'s case, was quite helpful.

It is kills like this one that truly satisfy me - they are an inspiration.

I thank you for chump wettings of this caliber.

Thus far, I feel that these two stories posted these last couple of days - along with one or two others - are true contenders for best kill story.

Generally, we decide the kill story winner completely internally but, in my infinite kindness I will listen to you and take your opinions into consideration...

So...

On to the story of how A.L.I.C.E. ended the rain of terror of Dos Lobos

Ahhhh.

The people formerly known as "kill leaders" have been eliminated. What a glorious feeling... making two cute but cocky boys gargle my super soaker water.

That's what you get for being chumps.

I first met my targets Monday night, at the bar the leader lives on top of, directly next to both of their places to work. I had a few pints, fell off of my inconspicuous-rocker, and was busted (with help from our mutual buddy, the bartender, who blew both of our covers). I was politely shot in the foot by the non-team leader (who was on his "safe block" and unable to be killed on the spot), and put on hold for 24 hours.

Tonight, I brought my former partner-in-crime and our friend from L.A., and planted them as obvious assassins to act as decoys-- but to my disappointment, Dos Lobos was no where to be seen. I sent the boys off to party downtown, and resumed surveillance across the street.

...And to my amusement, my target was staked out, stalking around on the rooftop of Potbelly's. He set his obscenely large water gun (surely compensating in size for something else) on the ledge, took a swig of beer, and peered over all corners of the building.

This was going to be difficult.

From snooping around before, I knew there was only one entrance-- the front-- which was being hawk eyed by Mr. Big Gun. I went back to my former hiding spot behind the bar and accessed the height of the roof. It wasn't going to be easy, but I'm a tree climber, damn it... surely a twelve foot wall couldn't stop me.

I borrowed a patio table from the bar, then used two garbage cans to hop up to a ledge.

And like a typical ski-masked idiot scaling a really high wall, I immediately fell off the ledge, into the garbage can, and with an obnoxious (and painful) crash, thudded to the ground, and rolled a few feet in front of the bar door.

God DAMN that hurt.

I dusted the crud off of myself, and grabbed a crate-- hoisting myself back on the ledge, propped the crate up and gracefully hopped onto the roof of the bar.

...And noticed I was on the wrong fucking roof.

Fortunately the buildings were close together, and I was able to hop up to the next roof with ease. I crept over to the corner I had seen my target lounging a few minutes earlier, and there he was, next to a small collection of water balloons, staring at his front door like a dumbass.

I wasn't about to get hit again, and didn't want to fuck around. I sprinted over to his corner, and shot him square in the back of his shirt.

I ripped off my ski mask and beamed at him. He glared back and shook his head in disbelief.

"How'd you get up here??" he asked, the dread of telling his punk ass teammate he'd been killed swelling in his voice.

"I'm stealth." I replied, trying to shove the completely NON-stealth events that had occurred multiple times in the past five minutes...and the past two days out of my mind.

I shot him another huge smile as he fumbled for his ID card.

I asked to be let out his front door, as I had scuffed myself up slightly from the climb up to two rooftops. He kindly obliged, and even offered a hand as I clumsily flopped through his window. I apologized for killing him, as he seemed super pissed about his recent death, and bummed about fact that his partner will be kicking him in the nuts for the next week in return for getting soaked on his own damn rooftop.

Surely he hates me, for telling him I wasn't his assassin two days earlier, for annihilating his team, and for bitch slapping their ass out of Kill Leaderdom.

As I sit here nursing my twisted ankle, heating pad on my back, staring at his ID card...

....I'm pretty sure it was worth it.

But next time i see you at Flounders, "Larry"-- beer's on me.

XOXO Maryanne

Comments (2536)

Chicago 2007

Blast From The Past : Airport Kill!

August 2, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 08:12 AM

Players Remaining: 11
Current Kill Leader: Dos Lobos (5)

The above numbers will be a little different when I get to the official update a little later today, however, I wanted to whet your appetite a bit before we get to that update.

Below is an example of fine assassining. Not a brute force kill, as so many of you have made but, one that is glorious in its planning and execution. An example of the results of planning and perseverance...

This is not to say that others have not made awesome as well - as you will see in the upcoming update - but an example of what you "brute force" assassins should aspire to.

A clean sexy kill, one that gave me a 78% chubby after hearing of it.

I hope it makes you as turgid as it made me.

Enjoy.

The lady at the pre-security-security gate is telling me my ticket is for another concourse. There are two, she informs me, and the one I am trying to get into isn't the one I should be trying to get into. I am looking at her dumbly; I have no other chance to do this, it absolutely has to be right now. My ticket, the cheapest ticket I could find to anywhere in the goddamned country, is apparently too cheap to get me closer to my target than the span of an entire airport.

The plan was called 'the box' and it involved a truly sadistic affront to my target's condo. Like my last target, he lived and worked from the same address. Like my last target, he had a veritable fortress from which to wait out the water war. Unlike my last target he was actually in the house at some point. Contact was made easily, in fact. False neighbor complaints, endless interruption of daily life and and even a car chase failed to shake him up. We communicated regularly via SMS with civil, gentlemanly but chiding remarks. At one point he even asked me to join him at a local bar, something that appealed greatly to that part of me interested in the cinematic. The killer in me, however, was busy hatching the plot.

You see, my target could move freely in and out of his apartment. His second entrance could lead both to the common area hallway and directly into his garage. When he left, wrapped in the protective plating of his Mercedes, he did so from a garage previously closed to the outside. The same for his return. It seemed that the only way to get him would be at his destination or at his home. After a brief but exciting car chase which ended in a theatrical car crash (I apologize, Doobie, it never really happened), I realized that his apartment was the only manipulable scenario in which I had any chance of getting him.

The plan was called 'the box' and it involved a truly sadistic affront to my target's condo. You see, his front door entered into a small antechamber in which there was another residence door directly across the hall, a door to the stairwell to the left and an elevator to the right. This 'box' was a hell-pit for an assassin. It was easily viewed in entirety by my target's peep-hole, it was small and it was the only area directly accessible to anyone attempting to wet a resident. It was as though it was designed specifically to impede assassination; a fact I am almost certain was taken into account when my target chose to join this bit of sport. The plan itself was to tie my target's front door handle to that of the stairwell door. An accomplice of mine, who has also served as my bodyguard and regular body double to strikingly great effect, would set this trap and once the rope was taught would cover the elevator sensors and set off the elevator alarm. The elevator tactic was used a previous night to instill a sense of irritation and annoyance in my target's girlfriend. It was left to alarm into the night as we, ourselves, vacated the premises. The repetition of this act would surely make someone exit the condo and stop it as he had previously, only this time his front door would be immovable.

My accomplice inside of 'the box', in control of the rope and elevator, would let me know when an attempt was made at the front door at which point I would ready myself in the stairwell to attack my target as he tried to get into the box from his opposing exit. Once my target attempted the stairwell door (which was tied to his own door, remember) he would be open to Apophys and thusly destroyed. Once victory was had, my accomplice would cut the rope, unstick the elevator and meet me outside. We would do this on Saturday afternoon and we would not leave until my target was soaked.

There was a small hitch, however: My vast ability to look into the lives of my targets reveled a scheduled business trip early Saturday afternoon. 'The box' would fail!

The lady at the pre-security-security gate is telling me my ticket is for another concourse. There are two, she informs me, and the one I am trying to get into isn't the one I should be trying to get into. I am looking at her dumbly; I have no other chance to do this, it absolutely has to be right now. I go weak in the knees. It is my first time flying and I am absolutely horrified, I explain. I have been wandering the airport since early morning, going in and out of security checkpoints and losing my fucking mind. I am lost. I am scared and I have no idea where I am supposed to be going. Can she walk me, personally, to my concourse; a concourse easily 1.5 foot miles away? Can she please just help me there, because I have no idea how to get there.

Of course she can't. Neither can any of her people. Inwardly I am relieved by this, outwardly distraught. What she can do for me, a severe breach of protocol, is check me in right there and give me a crudely drawn map back to the concourse listed on my ticket. Once inside the airport proper, she expounds, it is really very easy to make it back.

Outside of view of the helpful, if not totally ineffective, security lady, I make my way to my target's departing terminal. It is at the other end of the planet, it seems, and I have plenty of time to think about how risky this operation is. There are elements of this that could get me arrested. Elements that could get me sent to federal prison. I must take no risks beyond those I have laid out. I must be sure my target is who I think he is, as randomly spraying an airline passenger with an unknown fluid, covertly and from a strange concealed device, is a one way ticket to the pound-me-in-the-ass-palace.

I take position at the gate. I can see the escalator leading down into the terminal but those coming down cannot see me. I prepare an SMS message, "Dude, are you planning on staying in your condo for the whole three weeks or what?", which I will send when I see who I think is my target. If he reads the message, I will attack.

"Now boarding all general class passengers. Please have your boarding passes ready."

The lady droning over the loudspeaker means that this is it. I see only one gentleman who only briefly matches my target's description, but I cannot wait any longer. I send the SMS. No response. I have made the wrong guy, and when he stands I realize it in full. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I've bought a ticket, camped the airport and broken quite a few TSA guidelines to a safe and healthy travel experience. In my pocket, the covert weapon I've fashioned and filled after passing the security gate, and which I have named "Aquamentus, the Little Death", thirsts for the kill. My heart is pounding and my stomach is beginning that drop it makes when one realizes one has lost something very valuable to him.

Bleep blop bloop bloop bloop. A gentleman on the escalator has received an SMS. It is my target. He is responding.

I slip from my seat and gather my belongings. To those around me I must look merely like another passenger. I make my way to the boarding tube slowly and my phone vibrates. It is his response and there can be no doubt that it is him.

Only just feet from the doorway I say his name. He turns and is met with wet kiss of Aquamentus.

My accomplice meets me back at baggage claim six and we fold into the crowd and flow into the underground train system. From there, we vanish.

Comments (0)

Chicago 2007

Still.

August 1, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 11:13 AM

Players Remaining: 11
Current Kill Leader: Dos Lobos (5)

Eleven players left.

Still.

Today is a sad day. First day of the competition with no kills.

I'd like to think that is because those of you left have such 1337 skills that you are practically ghosts. Truth of the matter is I know some of you are just lucky and others lazy.

Indeed, the temptation to turtle the last few days before Sudden Death is tempting but, is generally the route taken by those with sub-par skills that are more excellent at failing rather than killing.

I trust you will fail in Sudden Death as you fail in life.

I will now leave you with some old stories, I need to go kill some homeless people in order to make up for the killing you did not do. Their blood is on your hands.

Shadow Government Officials:

Last night, ON HIS BIRTHDAY OF ALL DAYS, Dr. Beef was assisinated by my hand...or more appropriately my water gun!

His neighbor let me and my bodyguard in his building and I knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again and Dr. Beef opened the door and I immediately fired away. He shut the door quickly and I didn't get him. I yelled HAPPY BIRTHDAY DR. BEEF! YOU WANT A WAR?

So I go around back and my bodyguard alerted me that Ben had exited the apartment and was now at street level. The elusive Sassy Slaughtermouth, his partner in crime (what crime I do not know since they told me they don't have even one kill and it's nearing the end of the 2nd week of play), would not exit the premesis.

I went around the front of the building to try to get behind Beef to attack, but gates kept me out. I walked around to the back again and Beef came around the corner and BAM! I blasted him.

Me, my bodyguard and Dr.Beef bullshitted for awhile in the alley and we notice the elusive Sassy Slaughtermouth, team leader of the Guild of Torrential Pain throwing water ballons off the roof and shooting her gun as well. I remained dry and my bodyguard and I went off to have a fabulous Friday night of drinking and sex.

Chicago 2007

Numbers

July 31, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 07:05 AM

Players Remaining: 11
Current Kill Leader: Dos Lobos (5)

Eleven players left.

It sucks fucking hippo dick that so much action was missed over the past week, thanks to those poop problems we discussed yesterday...

Thankfully, you fine assassins did not stop sending in the kill stories...so, I will forgo my usual rigorous daily schedule of massages for my penis and I will be making a few more updates to the blog today, posting a few more stories for your eyes to read.

Also, I will probably talk shit about people as well as post naked pictures of various players.

It will be fun.

Soooo...

Without (much) further typing on the part of my typist, here come kill stories...

TARGET: WEEZER GOT BITCH SOAKED @ 9:21PM ON HIS WAY TO WORK HE GOT SERVED. PUNK ASS GOTTA LEARN TO STAY DRY ......BRING ON OUR NEXT ASSIGNMENT WERE ARMED TO THE TEETH AND READY FOR MORE BRING IT!!!

HOLY SHIT!!!!...

...Is an understatement for the frustration we endured from this target.

The lucky target was allowed too many days of her free life. We spent countless days traveling and waiting only to go home empty handed and unfullfilled. It reminded me of the ex-girlfriend who just wasnt ready for sex.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...kill me.

Today was now or never. We walked to the target's work. I walked in, and bought two candle holders that will make two great shot glasses. As soon as I saw her at the register I made my move, I would ask a question and start a conversation (no one suspects the obvious). I talked about art and frames with the target and then left to meet up with my partner. We waited until the time we thought she might have gotten off work but she never left. we assumed she was closing. So, we hauled are asses for the 20th time back to the fortress.

As we waited, we thought about how good it will be to soak this target, how i ever-so wanted to buy her a new pearl necklace, but today I didn't hand out the money shot. Spec4 came through (no pun intended) and led us to victory. After the wait, we walked back to her work because it was coming close to closing time. The set up she had for her job was perfect, surrounded with safe zones that were only feet away. We arrived at the destination a little early so we killed time by using the bathroom at borders. Spec left early and went back to our spy area. When i came back i noticed him soaking a girl who looked similar to our target but different clothing. I thought a mistaken identity had taken place. But thanks to good judgement and a keane sense of smell. The target was wet....real wet.

And we were satisfied.

And just wanted to roll over.

And fall asleep.

Girl Friday died like a bitch at the hands of Dos Lobos.

In other news, I have purchased the largest bottle of Jack Daniels that I could carry to honor my death...

dearest supreme and mustache,

i am very very happy and sleep deprived to say that i got bagman of team a.l.i.c.e. this one was definitely not as graceful or clever as my first kill though.

i was trying to get into their building when they came down the stairs. and then bagman and i started shooting, and we decided that i got him before he got me. but maryanne got me so i have 24 hours before i can get her, but at least i managed to get bagman and his id card.

i had been trying to throw them off because i had made an attempt on them last sunday, and then texted them pretending as though i was out of the game and that their new assassins were two lanky white dudes instead of an asian broad. but now she's seen me...so i will have to think of a clever disguise hmm.

and i'm gonna go to sleep now. have a great day!

tso tso def =]

Supreme and Mustache,

Great balls of fire! The defense department regrets to inform you that your Goose is dead because he was stupid. Actually he was smart, but the Goose has been had. He was elusive. He was careful. He unleashed Federal Officers on me. He was quick, but eventually he was outwitted. Now he is wet.

Prosit,

Der Kaiser

Comments (418)

Chicago 2007

Numbers

July 31, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 07:05 AM

Players Remaining: 11
Current Kill Leader: Dos Lobos (5)

Eleven players left.

It sucks fucking hippo dick that so much action was missed over the past week, thanks to those poop problems we discussed yesterday...

Thankfully, you fine assassins did not stop sending in the kill stories...so, I will forgo my usual rigorous daily schedule of massages for my penis and I will be making a few more updates to the blog today, posting a few more stories for your eyes to read.

Also, I will probably talk shit about people as well as post naked pictures of various players.

It will be fun.

Soooo...

Without (much) further typing on the part of my typist, here come kill stories...

HOLY SHIT!!!!...

...Is an understatement for the frustration we endured from this target.

The lucky target was allowed too many days of her free life. We spent countless days traveling and waiting only to go home empty handed and unfullfilled. It reminded me of the ex-girlfriend who just wasnt ready for sex.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...kill me.

Today was now or never. We walked to the target's work. I walked in, and bought two candle holders that will make two great shot glasses. As soon as I saw her at the register I made my move, I would ask a question and start a conversation (no one suspects the obvious). I talked about art and frames with the target and then left to meet up with my partner. We waited until the time we thought she might have gotten off work but she never left. we assumed she was closing. So, we hauled are asses for the 20th time back to the fortress.

As we waited, we thought about how good it will be to soak this target, how i ever-so wanted to buy her a new pearl necklace, but today I didn't hand out the money shot. Spec4 came through (no pun intended) and led us to victory. After the wait, we walked back to her work because it was coming close to closing time. The set up she had for her job was perfect, surrounded with safe zones that were only feet away. We arrived at the destination a little early so we killed time by using the bathroom at borders. Spec left early and went back to our spy area. When i came back i noticed him soaking a girl who looked similar to our target but different clothing. I thought a mistaken identity had taken place. But thanks to good judgement and a keane sense of smell. The target was wet....real wet.

And we were satisfied.

And just wanted to roll over.

And fall asleep.

Girl Friday died like a bitch at the hands of Dos Lobos.

In other news, I have purchased the largest bottle of Jack Daniels that I could carry to honor my death...

dearest supreme and mustache,

i am very very happy and sleep deprived to say that i got bagman of team a.l.i.c.e. this one was definitely not as graceful or clever as my first kill though.

i was trying to get into their building when they came down the stairs. and then bagman and i started shooting, and we decided that i got him before he got me. but maryanne got me so i have 24 hours before i can get her, but at least i managed to get bagman and his id card.

i had been trying to throw them off because i had made an attempt on them last sunday, and then texted them pretending as though i was out of the game and that their new assassins were two lanky white dudes instead of an asian broad. but now she's seen me...so i will have to think of a clever disguise hmm.

and i'm gonna go to sleep now. have a great day!

tso tso def =]

Supreme and Mustache,

Great balls of fire! The defense department regrets to inform you that your Goose is dead because he was stupid. Actually he was smart, but the Goose has been had. He was elusive. He was careful. He unleashed Federal Officers on me. He was quick, but eventually he was outwitted. Now he is wet.

Prosit,

Der Kaiser

Comments (978)

Chicago 2007

Diarrhoea In Our Mouth

July 30, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 05:55 AM

[Please note that we spell "diarrhea" the British way because we are very classy]

Yes...so...welcome back.

We must honestly offer you our most heartfelt apologies for having the blog get fucked so hard.

Pretty much what happened was that the company that provides us with server space for the website decided it would be a good idea to diarrhoea in our mouth.

...and they did. Repeatedly and non-stop. In fact, just to clarify the kind of diarrhoea we have had to endure being poured down our gullets, I have included the below chart:

We had the pleasure of "enjoying" diarrhoeas type 6 and 7. It was great.

Their servers went down and despite the guarantee that they would never be down for more than an hour...well...(unluckily) you know the rest...

It has been quite an ass fucky time, I know...and for this I personally apologize.

Keep in mind that this is the 3rd time I have ever apologized to anyone for anything in my long, illustrious life...and this time, it is sincere.

Rest assured that we are currently exploring our options in terms of where to stab the CEO, Board of directors and middle management of our, soon to be former, server company.

I will be posting the collection of stories that have come in during the time the website was fucked.

Expect another post today...and more each following day.

Love,

Supreme

Comments (1781)

Chicago 2007

Getting Fucked

July 25, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 09:44 AM

Sorry kids...

We've been busy getting fucked raw in our e-anus by the internets.

We're just now recovering our pride, dignity and undergarments...should have some new stuff up for you - kill stories, details on the e-rape and such - shortly.

Please be patient and know that the problems involved ninjas. So, I'm sure you can understand and forgive.

Love,

Supreme Commander
Shadow Government

Comments (578)

Chicago 2007

Storm Clouds Gather...

July 20, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 10:00 AM

Total Kill Count: 21
Current Kill Leader: Dos Lobos (4)

After a much deserved rest from my duties as Supreme Commander (including, but not limited to, drinking, having sex with my harem, having sex with your mom, getting massages, beating servants, exploiting the under-classes for my own personal gain, et al), I have return to peep the killy details on the Shadow Government mainframe computer and what do I find...?

Not a stunning number of kills...and a fairly quiet weekend yet, I still have (misplaced) faith in you assassins.

Why?

I see potential.

Granted, often times potential is never realized - like many of you fools that were talking a big game when you came to see us and are now likely in the hospital with inflamed and liquid filled alveoli from having been wetted so thoroughly (for those of you that are not medically literate, that means you done got a Pneumonia, son!).

Those of you that are not hospitalized however, have a new challenge to meet.

Staying dry just got a little harder.

As of Monday, I will be releasing the Rogue Assassins on your asses, they are unkillable (though stoppable), full of hate, water and looking forward to get some kills under their belts.

Good luck surviving.

Ah!

If you have not gotten an email from us officially bitch-slapping you out of the game for no attempts, then you are still in it. Don't shit on our kindness - do something good and go wet someone.

In today's update...

• Jewrookie (1) killed the English language
• Much like Cobra Commander had his ass handed to him countless times, so has Big Daddy (2) handed StormShadow his own ass and, by extension, has ass-handed team Arashikage (0)
• The Truth (1) cut short the tenure of The Administrator of the The Bureau (2)
• The Goose (1) laid a wet golden egg on the aptly named agent Zero (0)
• Martin Levin (2) ran game on the TSA and smoked Doobie (0) just as he was boarding a plane

Kill stories after the jump.

Holla.

Your daily kill stories

The Truth (1) cut short the tenure of The Administrator of the The Bureau (2)

This is The Truth informing you that one The Administrator is no longer among the dry. I know, it took me long enough to get warmed up, but now that I am, there will be fucking murders. Out.

From The Administrator

I was assassinated last night at 3:30 am. This Chris guy waited in my alley (which I share with Blue Man Group so its pretty rat infested, I mean really rat infested) since 10:30pm, so he was there for 6 hours! I was on the phone trying to get my keys out and he jumps out of the alley like "Gotchya" but he didnt actually squirt me. And so I start putting my keys in my pocket and walking towards him. I shove the water gun away and start running as fast as i can down the street! About a block down he finally starts shouting "I GOT YOU! I GOT YOU!" I feel my back and its wet. Fuck! So we walk back to my place and he explains how he searched for like 3 days to get this huge refrigerator box to hide in, which he put in my alley. I ask him if he saw any rats back there to which he replied, "Yeah like a thousand it was gross!" I told him he deserved the kill since he waited back there so long in filth. The entire time I was running and stuff I forgot I was on the phone! So this girl ****** I was talking to was like "What the hell just happened? All I hear was you say 'hold on' and then I hear a ton of cursing and just the phone russle around like it was in your pocket!" hahaha... so alas I have been eliminated...

The Administrator




The Goose (1) laid a wet golden egg on the aptly named agent Zero (0)




Zero is dead. I summarily dispatched him at 10:49 a.m. He never saw it coming.

I had been pursuing Alex for the entire week, and until today he had eluded me completely; I never even caught a glimpse of him. On Monday I arrived at his apartment at 7 a.m., with hopes of soaking his ass on his way to work. Assuming he took public transportation, I had surmised the general direction in which he would have to walk, and I staked out a prime hiding spot and waited. And waited. And waited. And he never came. After two hours I gave up and headed to work. On my lunch hour I set up shop in a bus shelter just steps from the entrance to his building. I kept watch over that entrance for just over an hour, with no luck whatsoever.

And so it went for the entire week. I am as cunning as I am handsome, and yet I was never able to identify my target, much less kill him. I altered my strategy, spying on his building from the darkness and anonymity of my car. No dice. I hid in the alley adjacent to his house with gun drawn, but his dog-walking neighbors repeatedly questioned my presence there, and my cover was blown. It was, in short, a most frustrating week.

And so this morning I woke with renewed vigor, ready to do whatever it took to kill my target. And yet, when I prepared to leave this morning, who should I find standing six inches from my front door, but my assassin! My dog alerted me to his presence, and I spied him through the peephole. It was a most unwelcome sight, and I had to temporarily postpone my plans. An hour later, my assassin having given up and vacated my building, I high-tailed to my target's neighborhood. I found a secluded spot between two cars on the opposite side of the street and waited. I was prepared to wait for hours, and had brought along the new Harry Potter book for entertainment. Not 5 seconds after I sat down, my target emerged from his apartment. I wasn't certain it was him, and he did not seem suspicious or nervous, and so I followed at a generous remove, some 50 feet behind him. As we walked I began to close the gap, making sure to stay out of sight lines, lest I tip him to the pursuit. As he turned a corner I got my first good view of him, and I knew it was my target. I began to speed up, and crossed to the opposite side of the street. My plan was to overtake him by a good twenty paces, then double back and face him straight on. He turned on a street filled with people setting up chairs and food stands, for what appeared to be a neighborhood festival. Halfway down the block he was stopped by security and told he could not pass. I knew I had to make my move. Moving quickly, I crossed the street. As he approached, I called out his name, as if we were old friends. He shot me a quizzical look. I shot him in the solar plexus.

He had his ID on him (good man), but did not have the identity of his target. We arranged for me to pick it up tomorrow. If, however, you can tear yourself away from your harem, perhaps you might send me the name of my next victim.

Still dry, Goose

Jewrookie (1) killed the English language

Dark rainy night waiting for the target out side of his home waiting in the shadows waiting patiently drench we Jewrookie trained by Hercules himself taught to never retreat never to surrender. Jewrookie the finest soldier in the world that has ever known. My gut tells me he'll be coming my way tonight. It's quite now I can now here footsteps he came from the blackness faces me. Not shooting him right away instead I ask my self what should a free man do. You come to my house, you threaten my people with slavery and death, you say to me this is madness............madness I say THIS IS STREETWARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!my two side shooter blast him in the back. JEWROOKIE PREPARE FOR WAR........JEWROOKIE TONIGHT WE DINE IN HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Much like Cobra Commander had his ass handed to him countless times, so has Big Daddy (2) handed StormShadow his own ass and, by extension, has ass-handed team Arashikage (0)

StormShadow got dosed this morning! Shout out to Agent Sergeant Fun for the help. Kill story and the soon to be dubbed “Best Video” on the way!

Thank you sir, may I have another?

Big Daddy

Comments (1239)

Chicago 2007

Yawn...

July 19, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 10:43 PM

Total Kill Count: 17
Current Kill Leader: Team Dos Lobos (4)

Yawn... why did my interns wake me up just so I can post after two pathetic little kills? Thanks to the speed and efficiency of Dos Lobos with 4 kill in quick succession, which pleased me slighty, I did not have to beat my interns as they rightly deserved.

Which reminds me, I need to get me some interns for intern beating. Doing it with my own hands is getting tiring.

Damn its hard to find good help these days.

In today's update...

• Dos Lobos (4) wrote a premature ending for Shouji (0)
• Der Kaiser (1) dispatched The Romans (0)

Read kill stories after the jump

Your daily kill stories

Team Dos Lobos (4) wrote a premature ending for Agent Shouji (0)

I hate waking up this early in the morning....i mean afternoon.

We had convienently had close targets until we came across Agent Shuoji. He lived on the outskirts of our beloved city. we made our journey into his neighborhood, the couches oustide really set a cozy feeling for the community. The glaring looks the residents gave also made us feel right at home. "Was that a gun in his wasteline?"...."yea i think so". Finally, we found his apartment. A large building with about 8 units. We decided we would lure him out with a knock on the back door. Spec4 made the knock while I waited above the stairs for him to step out. After 3 knocks the door slammed shut. He had been smarter then we thought. We decided to wait in the car until we saw him come out. Right when we were about to leave Spec4 noticed the tall, lanky, black man holding a puney water pistol. We decided we were just gonna run and gun his ass down.

He ran fast.
Too fast.

We lost his trail and took opposite sides of the block until we noticed him lurking and weaving through the alley ways. Again we hurled grenades and chased him but no hits. Spec4 chased him all the way home until he got inside his house...or should i say, his moms house.

Thats when we waited for him to come out the back. Spec4 and I both waited on opposite sides until i notice him running and Spec4 chasing, right towards me....I hurled two grenades at once, he jumped over both. Then i held down the trigger and gave him the blast to the chest. The little pearl necklace that I have now adopted as my calling card.

Target Eliminated.

Team Jewrookie (1) took down Agent Weezer (1) (Story from yesterday's kill update)

Dark rainy night waiting for the target out side of his home waiting in the shadows waiting patiently drench we Jewrookie trained by Hercules himself taught to never retreat never to surrender. Jewrookie the finest soldier in the world that has ever known. My gut tells me he'll be coming my way tonight. It's quite now I can now here footsteps he came from the blackness faces me. Not shooting him right away instead I ask my self what should a free man do. You come to my house, you threaten my people with slavery and death, you say to me this is madness............madness I say THIS IS STREETWARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!my two side shooter blast him in the back. JEWROOKIE PREPARE FOR WAR........JEWROOKIE TONIGHT WE DINE IN HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Comments (1921)

Chicago 2007

Hallowed Be Thy Death

July 18, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 07:50 AM

Total Kill Count: 15
Current Kill Leader: Dos Lobos (3)

Usually this is the day I get all ominous and threatening on you, warning you about how if you are lazy, have pissed me off or if I just don't like the cut of your jib, I will unleash the Rogue Assassins on you come Monday. I go on for quite a bit about this, listing all the reasons why I might send them after you and so on...frankly, it's kinda boring...in the past I have made reference to having my assassins "space dock" you, "stomping you a new colon", "peeing on" you and "opening the fucking heavens and raining wet death on" you, among others.

Not so this day.

Christmas comes early this year...there's no time to foreshadow the deathiness that is about to descend on Chicago.

Agent White Noise, one of the elite players from San Francisco is arriving in Chicago tonight...and he's going to be paying some of you a visit.

Just in case you were wondering, he's not coming over to bring you cookies or give you handjobs or finger-pop you, no, he is looking to kill you (or, possibly, to ask you questions about strip clubs).

Enjoy.

In today's update...

• Coyote (1) fucked up Smuuve's (0) game...permanently
• Dos Lobos (3) are truly a pack of dangerous animals - two kills on one day - both Bing Cherry (0) and Raider (0) met a death at the end of the pointed liquid fangs of Dos Lobos.
• Martin Levin (1) ID'ed Thick N Creamy (0) to death
• Jewrookie (1) interrupted my 4am blowjob but, made up for it by busting a nut on Weezer (1)

The stories after the jump...

• Jewrookie (1) interrupted my 4am blowjob but, made up for it by busting a nut on Weezer (1)






TARGET: WEEZER GOT BITCH SOAKED @ 9:21PM ON HIS WAY TO WORK HE GOT SERVED. PUNK ASS GOTTA LEARN TO STAY DRY ......BRING ON OUR NEXT ASSIGNMENT WERE ARMED TO THE TEETH AND READY FOR MORE BRING IT!!!





Death of The Moist

So there I was, 18.75 hours (appx) into the game and still without appropriate firearms... stupid as hell eh? Well whaddya expect from a 35yo pothead?

My head is just getting into the game. TOTALLY digging the paranoia, and this odd and somewhat forced agoraphobia sets in as I realize Im afraid to leave the house. First thought is something like "next year install conicle mirrors outside the door" drive-thru style. My brave lady goes to the car first and scopes out the scene, tosses me the high sign and I dash to the car gripping my bicycle squirt bottle in white knuckle fashion. My goal... to drop off the lady and do a little firearms shopping, and be off to the free-wifi-pub to map out my evenings agenda. With a quick smooch I boot the chick outta the car and Im off to Toys R Us in a flash. The result = very lack-luster selection of water guns. However in the event I needed an underwater propulsion unit for the pool Id have scored big. At this point Target pops into my head as actually having a decent amount of gear. So I stealthily high tail it over. As Im ambling through the store wearing my paranoia like a winter parka I sneak over to the toys section of the store. As I start to pass the toddler floating high chairs I have been trying to get back into for 33 years and round the corner past the water weenies I am graced with the welcoming face of an old friend. "Hey buddy... hows it goin? tag anybody yet?". We chat for a second discussing the selection and other potential stores for good gear, he mentions a bit about his target and how he intends to take her down (of course without giving any info away, we DO play by the rules fuckers). I show him the squeeze bottle I was using as a temporary "fits in my pocket without dripping and therfore appropriate for commuting". He mentioned that being a decent idea as he makes his way up to complete his transaction (he was also purchasing his firearm that day). As Im going through the selection I grab the couple/few I was interested in and mosey on over to the Mens Wear to peruse some slacks. Upon finding a new pair of inexpensive chinos (kiddin) I realize I neglected to grab hand grenades. On my way back to the water fun section my buddy walks back up lookin flustered, "I forgot to look for one of those squeeze bottles" while looking up and down at the items on the shelf as if it would have been located there. I mention I forgot something myself and turn to continue in my intended direction. I hear my buddy muttering something from behind me. "HEY dude... ?!". It is at this moment that my eyes slowly shut in embarrassment and humility as my back is peppered with a spray of 100% humidity. WHAT happened? The SUMMUNABITCH actually went up and bought the gun, most likely filled it at the water fountain RIGHT THERE IN THE FUCKIN STORE and casually made his way over to his good old friend... and shot me in the back, with a deafening little giggle like a 6yo learning to write his name with pee in the snow. As much as I would like to make excuses about Big Daddy being a naturally kind and disarming type of guy, in all honesty its my own ridiculously vacant pot riddin cob web buildin noggin that kept me from making it to the 20th hour. At the very least he saved me the $40 I was about to drop on firearms, which ultimately resulted in a free pair of chinos and a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup to moosh my sorrows into.

Congratulations Mr Big Daddy you heartless bastard! Ill get you in another life.

Erotically damp, The Moist




• Coyote (1) fucked up Smuuve's (0) game...permanently






It is my pleasure to report the wetting of one Agent Smuuve.

I began the hunt on Monday, spending a good deal of time hiding in the bushes across from broseph's house. That lasted for about 45 minutes, until the custodian of the building told me to leave...I switched positions and waited. Hours later, I said "fuck it" and left.

Tuesday it was too rainy.

Wednesday, I nabbed the sucka as he left for work. His extremely-stoned, Bluetooth headset-rocking, granola-eating upstairs neighbor fell into my web first, but we had a good laugh about the situation. Then it rained...perhaps a sign from God telling me to reach towards my full potential as an assassin. I can only thank Him for wetting me.

Then dude left his apartment, we locked eyes, and it was on. I pursued, and he might have saved himself if not for the inferior range of his weapon. He was using some little kids pistol, a little pink shark or dolphin, shapes typically reserved for man-hater dildos.

Some real Mickey Mouse shit. Better luck next time. Even having a work address in THE SUBURBS (an area clearly out-of-bound) couldn't save you.

Coyote




• Dos Lobos (3) are truly a pack of dangerous animals - two kills on one day - both Bing Cherry (0) and Raider (0) met a death at the end of the pointed liquid fangs of Dos Lobos.






We found him at work, or so we thought, and stayed at Lemmings to have a couple drinks until he left. He finally took off, we tried to hurry out as unsuspecting as possible, by the time we reached the sidewalk he had left all sight, like a ghost.




We then proceeded to his house, we watched his door all night, tomorrow would have to be another attempt.




The next day Agent: Spec4 made a solo assassination attempt. The two then got into a 5 minute gun battle when Spec4 was caught spying the house of our victim. They both retreated....Dry.




I then met Spec4 at base to compose a plan. We decided i would try to deliver a pizza box that was carrying a loaded water weapon. if i squeezed on the pizza box our victim would be totally drenched. i rang his door bell, he refused to answer...."I'LL MEET YOU OUTSIDE!". Larkin comes out on his 3rd floor patio and demands to see the pizza. He throws out his gun and aims for me and i ran. I then go back to base to think of another plan. about 2 hours later i show up with my backpack full of ammunition and grenades. I hurl grenades at his patio to lure him out the door. Due to my severe night blindness i was spotted and had to abort.




3rd Attempt, SUCCESS. Spec4 and I tag team the mission and decide we would have to lure him out again. I then throw the only balloon i had onto his porch. i believe i hit his dog... Larkin never comes out to the patio, we decided we were going to watch him from the Walgreens on the corner. As we walked behind the alleys we notice a man walking, then i notice he had a Super Soaker. THATS HIM! Spec4 and I ran out of vision, he must have seen us too because he ran also. Spec4 then was informed by a witness that the target had run between the backyard and the garage. Spec4 followed his trail as i stayed and watched guard. After waiting 5 minutes i became worried about my partner. I approached the house and saw Spec4 running and shooting. The target then ran behind the house and i followed along the yard towards the street. I made several attempts to shoot and failed. Spec4 then climbed up on the garage roof of the target and had a clean shot. He Shoots....blanks....his gun ran out of water. The target then ran towards the side of the garage and shot in my direction but i had already given him a full blast to the face.....like i used to do to the girls in Highschool. We both walked away feeling dirty but refreshed and ready for the next lucky lady.







• Dos Lobos (3) are truly a pack of dangerous animals - two kills on one day - both Bing Cherry (0) and Raider (0) met a death at the end of the pointed liquid fangs of Dos Lobos.






A celebration was in order. By 3:30 Bing cherry had tasted the saltiness of a Lobo liquidation and the time to relax and reflect was at hand. The company was exquisite, the liquor flowed freely, and there was even a long retired whore providing gum-jobs for Chex mix. Agent Dex was feeling especially relaxed and sated, as he had launched the money-shot that sent Bing Cherry to his knees. But Agent Spec4 was a bit drunk, and still hungry for more. With the dossier provided by Bing Cherry in one hand, and a road beer in the other, the stalk was on.

Being unfamiliar with the strange ways of the nine-to-fiver, Agent Spec4 wandered up and down the marks block for an hour or so to no avail. Suddenly, like a vision from god himself, it came to him. "I really need to piss" he said out loud. A disapproving glance from the soccer mom with the three-screamer stroller was enough to answer his impending question. Nature could not be answered in the great outdoors. Luckily a bar was within sight, and the thought of liquor and a bathroom was enough to see the distance quickly cleared.

The trials were many, between the stereo blaring John Mayer,the 5'6" bleach blond faux-hawked manager, and what looked like an underage bartender, the urge to liquidate was almost overwhelming. Imagining each in the bottom of the urinal was the only thing that kept that place dry. Someone needed to die, but these chumps weren't going to cough up a new target, so liquor was slammed, and an exit was made.

Back on the stalk, it began to rain, a shame, Agent Spec4 wanted to be the only one drenching Mr.John Angliss today. With a sense of failure coming with the rain, the decision to leave had been made, five minutes and then tomorrow.

The mark then arrived, picking up his mail from the porch, Agent Spec4 bolted towards him, guns blazing, but Mr. Angliss managed to make it in his front door. Agent Spec4 retreated a bit to the East, expecting retaliation from the second floor windows. Out came Mr. Angliss, but looking in the wrong direction, a water balloon was launched , but a bit short. Guns were blazed, but the range was too great. Agent Spec4 launched one last balloon, in an attempt to go through the mark's window. The balloon went high, but the water found its mark. John Angliss is dead, kill #3 for Dos Lobos. Your next.




• Martin Levin (1) ID'ed Thick N Creamy (0) to death






I'm in a tree.

It's 6:16pm and I'm up in some terribly nice gentleman's tree. As city ordinance would have, I acquired his permission to be in this tree, scaring the hell out of his daughter in the process; a process which involved a fairly large gentleman dropping from a fairly large tree to make a fairly large request just a few feet from a fairly tiny girl. I don't have aniPod because an assassin needs to be listening at all times. I don't have a book because a book doesn't shoot 65ft at 1/2 gallon/second. I don't have targets because they, those that make up my target team, have not been to their home or workplace during any of my fairly protracted, highly obfuscated, visits. This is complicated by the fact that my kill-sheet reports the same address for both residence and business.

The local government knows nothing of their landscaping business. It is not listed in any certification or incorporation papers. It has filed for no bank account, incurred no debt and must rely solely on word-of-mouth advertising because it has not been in print. Ever.

Consider for a moment what type of localization can come from the provision of registered service. The paperwork is immense and its breadth spread wide. Were I not to have the incredible research power that I do at my hungry and flitting fingertips, a simple trip to the local city office would provide ample editorial should this service be valid in the eyes of the law. Apparently the company for which my team, in entirety, works is not. In my observation I have seen neither equipment or manpower to move it enter or exit the one and only location I have to go on.

I grow hungry. I haven't eaten since a light business lunch and haven't been in a tree since grade 7. At 8:30 I will order a pizza; not for me, but for the house. The house must be hungry too. I sympathize. I relate to this house with its droopy horizontal blinds drawn tight and its sputtering attic window air conditioner.

At first I thought it was an angry house. Indeed it looked like an angry house, its eyes slammed shut, growling into an empty night. Fortress-like it would spring into action, its motion sensing lights flitting on at the slightest movement, with the intention only of giving up its invader's whereabouts. I know because an hour before our kill call I was lying in the dirt next to it.

That first night, and beyond.

That first night would describe the coming days in an almost complete replication. The kill call came at 12:01am. At 12:04am a pizza was delivered to the angry house, which blasted the deliveryman with inquisitive pools of maize addled linger light. There were no lights within, only without. An hour of hiding and I peeled away. No one was there. No movement. No lights. No nothing. Just that angry house.

In that time I was approached by a cat, who peed on me, a vicious hand full of insect life and an extremely large gentleman who noticed me and took great offense that my hiding place not only just outside of my targets' home/business/winter vacation shack on the even years, but also that it was directly in front of his girlfriend's house. A sensible response, to be sure, and one to which I paid heed.

After bearing witness to a striking and successful kill by Eternitygirl, I was inspired. Monday night would be different. Monday night would bring contact. Monday night would bring a battle unheard of in this city's history. Monday night would bring a kill worthy of those the Venerable Commanders who assigned me this target in their infinite wisdom and universal cock-dominance.

Monday night would bring nothing at all.

A renewed sense of purpose lead me to employ those social engineering skills handed to me from a black-hat past and after a brief encounter with the brother of my targets, to this day the only person I have seen step foot into that angry house, I gained permitted entry into the crazy-cat-lady-next-door's screened-in porch; a vantage point from which I had clear firing access to all entrances/exits and visual protection from the age-dirtied screen. At 6:15 I dug in and didn't leave until 3:30am Tuesday. No one was there. No movement. No lights. No nothing. Just that angry house.

I returned Tuesday morning to the same angry empty house. After an hour of hiding in the bushes across the street it was made clear that if anyone were to leave the house, having never gone int, they would have no vehicle to drive; surely not a landscaping vehicle. On my way from the scene I grabbed a rental slip from the house across the street. They are renting a room. I might want that room.

Tuesday evening starts the same, excepting the fact that I will not let this pass. This house has been empty for nearing 72 hours, leave brother-not-playing, and it is beginning to wear on me. I course the neighborhood. The Mexicans on the corner have never heard of my targets, but they don't seem to have heard of much that hasn't ethanol. They want to help me kill these guys, though, and I am not entirely certain that they understand that I mean to do so with a water gun. The lady across the way will put her dog away so as not to blow my cover. The large gentleman who was unhappy about my proximity to his girlfriend will now keep an eye out for me. The kids at the Lutheran center, who will be there until midnight, will also keep an open eye. They have my cell number in one hand, the bible in another and the will to persecute their fellow man coursing throughout. I've met with the man renting out the room, but he is adverse to letting me 'try out' the room for a few hours. I am somehow not at all surprised. All that is left is my hiding spot.

Though I am certain that this angry house will spend another evening empty, and that at all is unnecessary, I am an assassin and must do as an assassin does. A few kind words and a terrified little girl later and I am in a tree.

I am in a tree.

As expected, hours pass. The Mexicans are keeping watch for me but have been drinking since before I took purchase in my cliched, but effective, hunting blind. At 8:30 I call the pizza place. Maybe a legit attempt at contact will proved some response; any response. Estimated time of delivery: 45 minutes.

It is now that my feelings toward this house begin to change. Could it be that it's angry facade and blinding lights are neither angry nor blinding but instead protective and welcoming? Could it be that the neglect suffered by this house at the hand of those who have purported to spend most of their lives within it has brought a sense of mortality and loneliness to it? I know from the public record that it does not belong to those I am after. I know also from the public record that it is not rented, at least not in a manner that can be taxed. Perhaps the spurious lives of those that inhabit it, when they inhabit it, have served to bend its will and rend its woodwork in such a manner that its lonely cries are seen to the outside as vehemence.

My gift to this house is a tubby little man with an uneven mustache and a pizza heating bag. He interacts with the house as you would expect, rapping on the door and looking in the windows. When he calls me I tell him that he needs to come around to the back. Ignore the 'beware of dog' sign, I tell him. I know he can because that poor yapping mutt inside has been the only noise to come from the place since I got here. He fitfully ignores the sign and continues his pleasant and aromatic assault on the until-recently-angry-house, my new friend in this game of assassination.

Hours pass. The pizza man has gone, a fresh pizza lost to the cause. It has grown dark and all but the lonely house have rolled to life with the gentle burn of incandescence that marks the passing of the sun. My new friend sits alone, a vacuum to the light about it and with no reprieve, as I have tested and learned the range of its motion sensors.

Apophys and collision.

At my knees, in the tree with me, is my weapon of choice: A modified Arctic Blast whose safety valve has been replaced with binary epoxy and whose ram tank has been reinforced for pressure. The trigger guard has been shaved slightly for a smoother action, the grip increased and its center of gravity shifted with a weighted ballast where the easy-pour-spout used to be. It can fire twice its stock distance, float gingerly between hands and leave a welt at close range. It has a name:

Apophys, the Dire Maul of Anacreon.

It is 10:45 and I do not believe any longer that this is an adequate use of my time. I will instead return to my headquarters and use the vast resources spread before me to locate and preempt my own assassin. Such a task would be more fulfilling than another hour in this tree, staring sympathetically at that house.

A small drop from the tree and a few blocks later I am at the blue line station. I am angry. I want this. I want to be in this. I want to find an adversary and fight. I want a fair and balanced chance to match wits and water. I want to fight and I want to win. The train is not coming and this adds to my disdain.

In a rage I leave the station. I will get a taxi and begin my hunt for my assassin. As though by way of fate, however, there are no taxis available. They are all filled, you see, with the drunken masses returning from the Cubs game.

THE CUBS GAME!

There is absolutely no way in hell that my targets would laugh in the face of the spirit of this contest by going to so viable a kill zone as a Cubs game, right? And if they did, they wouldn't finally return to the lonely house would they?

Einstein said... possible/probable... you get it.

I run back to the lonely house, park myself between two vehicles and wait. Mere minutes later an SUV pulls in. Two people hop out. This is not happening. This cannot be how it ends.

I slip toward the figures standing beside the SUV and begin my assault. Just as my finger licks the re-sprung trigger of Apophys I realize that these people are not my targets at all. They are an older couple. My mind is reeling. What is going on? The woman, presumably my targets' mother, smile widely. She knows that she has sprung the trap. She knows that I am squarely in the middle of it and she is proud of her sons' cunning maneuver.

I am too.

A water balloon whizzes past my head and impacts a tree 15 feet to my left. I duck and run toward the source of the toss, a stout guy with big arms lobbing bombs the way you would think a linebacker would if the ball was accidentally snapped to him.

Their balloons are not so much balloons as tiny rubber bags filled 1/4 of the way. They bounce when the hit the ground, roll when they hit a wall and hurt like hell when they hit flesh and this guy will not stop the barrage. Another, a rare case, explodes on the ground behind me, missing me as I make my charge at the car they are returning to with calculated vigor.

I fucked up. I should've waited. I'd been waiting for more than a day in aggregate, why not a few more minutes? Why not until I identified my target completely? I fire wildly at the closed car. My index finger hurts for it. It is useless, but it feels good and Apophys is happy to oblige and indulge.

My rage peaked I retreat. Arms out, prostrate, and weapon at an impossible ready disadvantage I back away and slip behind a largish vehicle half a block away.

The stout one lobs another. It is thrown high into the air and it floats there for what seems like minutes. I roll to the right and rush the vehicle again but, as physics and all rational laws of distance would have it, am impotent in my attack.

Another retreat, this time far less dramatic, has me standing in the middle of the sidewalk at the end of the block, testament to my unwillingness to let this end here. They, as I had hoped, drive away. I sprint to my lonely friend who eagerly lights my way and I dive into the neighbors yard where I lay in wait. I have been waiting for this. This has to happen.

Almost 10 minutes late 2 guys cross the driveway I am hidden next to. Again I slip forward but am held by the lesson learned by the parent trap. I wait and am better for it, as these gentleman have no connection whatsoever to this game. The stout guy behind them, however - the one who has spotted me - does.

Another balloon, this time without the lingering lumber lob of the preceding. It is a direct hit, as though fired by a cannon. It tears into my shoulder like sandbag filled with lead bullion and drops to the ground in tact only to softly burst a full second on the ground.

I need to see your ID.

My arms in the air I shout, "That was a hit!" The stout one returns, "Yeah, I could tell I got you with that one. I didn't' even know if that was you, just a silhouette." "You have 24 hours", I say, "can I please see your ID?"

The stout one instantly complies. His ID is right and proper and I am prepared now to make my way home. He asks me for mine and I brandish it easily. I have made first contact and am satisfied with it. I know my targets intimately now and am prepared to to whatever it takes to challenge every second of their lives from 24 hours on. As a matter of course:

"I need to see [Name Withheld]'s ID as well."

The skinny one, whom I have only seen laughing at me from the passenger seat of his brother's car, and who looks strikingly like Jake Busey were Jake Busey to walk around on his knees, is the team leader and I am requesting to see his ID.

"I think he's up here", says the stout one, "he doesn't have it on him."

I am sent reeling. Did he just say that his team leader does not have his ID? Team Leader?

"It's ok, though, 'cuz I got you."

Refer for a second to your rule books. It is not ok. This is a direct violation of the rules. I don't want this. I want a kill. I want an actual kill. I want a take-down, a battle, a fair fight. To think that this team would be compromised by failing to follow the rules is ridiculous.

Is it though? The information they provided did not reflect their person or whereabouts. The only contact information provided the Shadow Government was not adequate even for first contact, let alone a fair hunt. They were brazen in their deference to the rules from the application process. I am, regardless of these facts, willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Before I can make a statement mini Jake Busey is running down the street. I politely discuss nothing with his brother as we await his return. 3 or so blocks his brother tells me. If it is even in the car, he parked 3 or so blocks away.

A short while later the skinny one returns with his ID. Returns. Returns because he did not have it with him while participating in an assault.

I check to see that it is valid and leave to a chorus of smack talk. They want me to bring them Little Ceasars next time. They think my little gun is cute (Apophys is neither little nor cute), they wish me better luck in getting my ass handed to me next time. I have walked away with the interest of the spirit of the game in mind, regardless of the tactless asshats I have faced this evening.

A short while later I make an appeal to the Shadow Government itself. I want a suggestion. Do I fall staunchly to the rules and take my first kill - my FIRST kill - as a technicality? A bitch move? Or do I continue the hunt having compromised my position with targets unwilling to respect the spirit of the game?

I tell them that I don't want a kill from this. I don't want a loss for anyone and I don't want a bitch move to be my legacy. I just want a fair target willing to play this game with self respect and honor and an observance of the rules. They respond, in their wise and venerable manner, with understanding but a firm grasp of the realities of this situation. I am left with the following:

It is established that the team leader of my target team did not, at the point of assault, have in his possession his ID. It is recognized that this is a clear violation of the rules and as an attacker I have the right to call him out on it. It is also established, however, that doing so with no other impetus than a kill would be a bitch-ass move.

Before I can make my decision, however, the Shadow Government wants me to have all of the information available at my disposal. I am giving the following:

To: Supreme Commander From: [My Target Team] Subject: STUNNED BIATCH FYI

Frank or Tom or who ever the hell is stalking Team Think 'n' Creamy got
stunned on Tues. at 11:23 pm. He got stunned like a biatch, shat himself
and wouldn't stop crying.

Also, what is the ruling on splatter from a water balloon. I thought the
website said splatter from a balloon is a valid kill, but the official rule
book says nothing. WTF!

A little clarification for everyone might be a good idea.

Cordially,

Agent Orange
Team Think 'n' Creamy

Decision

Hadn't I been giving them the benefit of the doubt? Hadn't I spent untold hours outside of an empty house, a house yet to actually be tied to them, without once complaining or calling foul, never questioning their veracity? Hadn't I offered myself up fairly when hit? Shat myself? Wouldn't stop crying?

Well, that helps the decision making process. It looks as though I just took out team Thick 'n' Creamy. It looks as though I, in the face of their obvious cock-bitery, even had the respect to spell it right.

I've got a new target now. He actually lives at his address and has a job. A job where he actually spends time. Though I hae made contact already, he is slick and has evaded my first attempt at locating him on the move. I am envigorated by the hunt. My assassin is on my tail and I'm on my victim's. This is how the game is meant to be played, no?

See you on the game grid.

Martin Levin

Comments (952)

Chicago 2007

A kill leader and two girls that are smarter than you

July 17, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 11:29 PM

Total Kill Count: 10
Current Kill Leader: The Bureau (2)

A kill leader finally emerges from you sorry bunch of assassins. Good work Team Bureau.

The rest of you might also take heed from the rather excellent kill stories submitted in today's update.

• Maryanne of Team A.L.I.C.E. fought through fear and the urging of her bowel movements to stalk and find fullfillment in her hapless prey.
  
  
• Tso Tso Def used her femine wiles to weave herself a scheme, trap herself a kill, and got herself a date all at the same time. Not bad in a day's work for a rookie.

What are the rest of you up to exactly? You don't get to kick your up feet, rest on thy laurels and have a team of eager assistants gently condition your pubic hairs one by one until you have wetted as many fools as those in the Shadow Government.

So read the stories, learn a thing or two, then go out and prove yourselves worthy of the title, "assassin".

In today's update...

• The Bureau (1) sent The Bodhisattva (0) to nirvana
• Tso Tso Def (1) took down Uberman5k (0)
• The Bureau (2) were not fazed by Faison (0)
• Weezer (1) took the fun out of Sergeant Fun (1)
• Girl Friday (1) cleaned up Dr Stain (0)
• Team A.L.I.C.E. (1) found a thrill with Agent Soubon (0)

Read kill stories after the jump

Your daily kill stories

Weezer (1) took the fun out of Sergeant Fun (1)

Agent Weezer has taken Sergeant Fun out of Streetwars 2007, scout sniper stylee....

After 10 hours of surveillance yesterday, Agent Weezer dug in the backyard of the diagonal neighbor. At 4:30 she came out of the house but it was too early. Agent Weezer stealthy backed out and reassesed the situation. Feeling the current firepower being employed was not enough, Agent Weezer retreated and reloaded will a scout sniper long barrel. Patiently waiting for the head shot for 40 mins