NYC 2008
The End
October 6, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 8:22 AM
2008 Winner: Aquaman (formerly of the River Rats)
Most Kills: Agent Orange (6)
Golden Mustache Award: Hebrew Hammer
Best Kill Video: Frankie the Hipster Slayer
Best Kill Story: El Matador
...and so it ends...
However, just because the current tournament is over does not mean I should deprive you of my profane words and irrational thoughts.
So, I will continue sharing thoughts with my "adoring" public here on this blog...at least until the next game begins.
<3
Supreme
Kill Story winner and kill video after the jump.
Best Kill Story:
El Matador smoked Killer Greene TeamUpon receiving "the package" from the Shadow Government, it was pleasing to see that this mision would have not one, but three victims, the members of team Killer Greene. A reconnaissance mission was embarked upon inmediatamente to identify the targets' homes and their places of work. The locations were all canvassed, photographed and committed to memoria. Every corner, alley, vagrant, and crack-whore was identified and inventoried, making the likelihood of an unforeseen escape unlikely.
The workplace of Mr. Greene, el capitan of Killer Greene was infiltrated on Tuesday night, but he was nowhere to be seen. Apparently some erroneous intelligence had been obtained. The night was not a complete failure however as Mr. Greene "moonlights" as a panini purveyor of Plutonian proportions. The spicey tuna with oven roasted tomates was delish!
Wednesday night saw an incursion into Killer Greene's hipster downtown Brooklyn barrio. After a lengthy stakeout and no sign of the marks, hope was nearly lost. However, there would be no going quietly into the good night. Like a Horseman of the Apocalypse, Mr. Greene's associate Mr. Pink strode into the crosshairs of El Matador's sidearm. The weapon's stream of muerte aquatica was not sufficient to relieve Mr. Pink of his mortal coil and he hastily retreated on his steed, fortuitously dodging volley after volley of water-grenades. The night's excitement would peak there, but the thrill of the hunt had sparked and insatiable bloodlust that demanded it be seen to fruition.
This morning, a second incursion was made into Brooklyn. A covert unit was stationed just outside the target's home with inteligencia buena indicating that Mr. Greene would be leaving at an appointed time. Lo, the time was nigh. An obviously on-edge Mr. Greene exited his home, eyes darting to and fro, searching for the most minimal sign of danger, water balloon and gun in hand. Ignorance being bliss, he was blind to the imminence of his demise and had sealed the fate of team Killer Greene. As Mr. Greene made his way up his block, agent El Matador swept upon him like the Angel of Death. Mr. Greene attempted an escape, but it was all for naught. He tossed a well-aimed balloon, but El Matador would not be denied and the projectile was avoided with Baryshnikovian elegance. A righteous saturation unlike any witnessed heretofore was unleashed upon the victim. Time of death: 11:15am.
The humiliation of defeat still entrenched in his visage, Mr. Green had little recourse but to hand over his ID. "I didn't want to stop playing yet." Sorry hijo, death is no game. A quick dap and man-hug later, it was off to search for the next mark. Ole!
Yours in acrimony ... El Matador
Best Kill Video:
NYC 2008
What I'm Doing.
October 4, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 1:19 PM
Mustache and I will be shopping at Macy's at 730pm.
Rogues might be around to help carry our bags...
After that, around 830pm, we'll be going bar hopping in Williamsburg. Hopefully, aside from getting nice and drunk, we'll be kicking those tight pants wearing hipsters in their testicles and having unprotected sex with their women.
Once we are properly drunk, women have been impregnated with our seed and we have kicked enough hipster ass, and assuming I'm not dead yet, we'll be heading to the large construction site behind my building.
It will be fun.
I'll update with bar specifics once we get there...but we're looking to beat the shit out of some trust fund artists/musicians. So, you should know where to find us...
<3
Supreme
NYC 2008
My Plans For The Day.
October 4, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 6:26 AM
It ends tonight.
Either you kill me or I will personally take each and every one of you out myself, like I did to Agent Apollo. Walked right up to him and shot him in the face from not even 5 feet away. He never saw it coming. Neither will you. Perhaps this is the year no one gets the golden gun...
My plans for the day:
I will be "shopping" at Macy's in the late afternoon - around 5.
Then I will be bar hopping in hipstertown around 8 or 9 (ideally, I will also be curb stomping some hipsters while I am there - you will be able to recognize me as I will have asymetrical haircut scalps and white belts as hunting trophies).
...and if I'm still not dead after I'm nice and drunk, then we'll meet up in a very special location.
I will post specific details about my schedule at around 3pm.
See you soon.
Supreme
NYC 2008
Reminder: StreetWars Awards Party this Sunday!
October 3, 2008 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 12:25 PM
Seriously, it is going to be retarded fun. Meet all the trash talking motherfuckers in the flesh. Drink, make out, make up, and oh, please DO NOT BRING LOADED WEAPONS in the club. Mr Terry C., the lovely gentleman hosting us at Le Royale would enjoy his club not fucked up. Thanks. And please to see everyone there. And don't be shy about bringing friends, especially if they are loose of morals, and hot.
NYC 2008
Face Palm aka Not This Shit Again
October 3, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 9:07 AM
Look.
Look what you did.
Even Jesus is ashamed of your faggotry.
NYC 2008
mincey fucking faggot balls
October 2, 2008 - Posted by Eevil Midget at 6:29 PM
THIS IS SUDDEN DEATH. Not a game of hide and seek, you motherfucking pussbucket cunt-suckers!!
Like we give a fuck that you spotted our rogues.
Like we give a fuck you were in the area.
Like we give a fuck you can smack talk on this blog.
We had no idea that you were all a bunch of babies. So, seeing as you like to be breast fed, how about this - The HEADQUARTERS of the Shadow Government is now NO LONGER SAFE, in other words, come and get him in the comforts of his home.
Frankie the shitster slayer. You fucking wash dishes at your fancy restaurant. You couldn't take the time off to do something more worthwhile?
Carl Spangler III. You should probably spend less time being turned on by your fancy outfits and sending me 'drunken texts' and actually show us your balls. I feel like personally setting fire to your cunting bushwack club or whatever you call it, as you're always arse-holed up in that place.
I can't even be bothered with everyone else.
At this rate, we're considering giving the title to the fruit with the golden gun. I mean he's dead and juiced and all, but he's better than any of you fuckers with his SIX kills. He was just stupid enough to fraternise with his rogue roomie and pay for a cheap photo booth dance. But damn, even from the morgue he remains the kill LEADER.
Are we really facing the unbelievably bullshit reality, that this may be the year that no one actually gets to wet the Supreme Commander? Holy fuck?!!
COME AND GET US YOU BUNCH OF BITCHES. We are waiting. No really, we are HERE.
PISS KITTENS. I can't believe we are even bothering with you lazy pathetic pissants.
NYC 2008
The Smell of Fear...
October 2, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 12:45 PM
Either you are too scared or too dumb to kill me.
Yesterday I actually went out and walked my dog...not a fucking chirp from you assholes. Granted, I understand that my skills and large penis are extremely intimidating but, sometimes you have to face your fears, no matter how uncomfortable they make you.
To show that I still have some compassion in my cold, black heart, I will give you pig-rapers a solid chance at me with no fear that my boys will kill you...
Assuming you do not have Jenkem for brains, you should already know I work at 560 Broadway. Today I will leave work between 630 and 8pm.
The rogue assassins are under strict orders to not shoot.
You still scared, pussies?
Supreme
NYC 2008
Pussy
October 1, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 9:05 PM
I truly believed that with so many veterans in Sudden Death, I could have made it a challenge - given you obstacles to overcome and that you would have not come up wanting.
Alas, I was wrong.
It seems that you really have learned little and still need me to hold your hand. Like your parents, I am disappointed in you.
...and so, you leave me no choice but to make things easier on you. Tomorrow evening I will remove one of my safe zones. Also, I will let you know that I generally leave my cover job at around 7pm.
If I'm not dead by tomorrow evening, I strongly suggest you get a car. I have fun plans for Friday.
Until we meet, I remain dry.
Supreme Commander
Shadow Government
NYC 2008
Meet N Greet
September 30, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 9:33 PM
What is wrong with you cockbags?
This is war, not a fucking convention. You think I'm going to just waltz into a bar while there's a bunch of you dickeaters just chilling at the bar, in plain view?
Make an effort for christsake! I'm not saying you have to dress like a garbage pile or anything but, don't expect me to just give myself to you like a $5 whore.
Historically, my death has always been exciting - car chases, treachery, stealth - all deliciously sexy things that have led to my demise. Not once have I been killed by some punk that had no imagination and was chilling in plain sight.
...and I'm not about to start now.
In short, it takes skills to kill me.
Fools must pay for their foolishness...and if you are dumb enough to walk into a safe zone, knowing full well I will have bodyguards with me...well...you deserve what's coming to you.
I'll post more about my whereabouts and my shrinking safe zones in the morning.
Until then...
Rest in Peace.
<3
Supreme
NYC 2008
You Can't Unfuck A 6 Year Old...
September 30, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 2:01 PM
...but you can wash the psychic filth from your soul with liquor. Which is just what I am about to do.
Time to get a celebratory drink at LIC bar and see some titties at the Riverhead.
Salvation, here I come.
<3
Supreme
NYC 2008
Good Morning!
September 30, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 7:05 AM
To the assassin waiting for me this morning - sorry I was too slick and well protected for you to make a move...be happy I didn't send my people to kill you.
Currently I'm chillin'.
Will get a drink and see some titties tonight.
I shall let you fools know more as my plans for the evening solidify.
Supreme Commander
Shadow Government
NYC 2008
Who Dies First?
September 29, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 9:19 PM
SUDDEN DEATH!!!
Like my scrotum here it is in a nutshell:
The following are the remaining players, in drenching order:
*Globix
*Agent Orange
*Hebrew Hammer
*Ice_man1898
*Battle Royale All-Stars
*The River Rats
*Frankie the Hipster Slayer
PAY ATTENTION HERE:
I promised you shit would change in Sudden Death.
Like Highlander, there can be only one.
Your targets are still active (until further notice...as there may be one more addition to the Sudden Death player list), but you can kill your teammates.
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...
Due to my stature in this tournament, my safe zones are slightly different. In addition to the regular game safe zones, the block surrounding my castle is safe, as are strip clubs and porn shops...also whore houses - so, if you see me at your mom's joint, don't bother shooting.
You will get more intel on me and my movements daily. I strongly suggest you check your email and the blog periodically.
Now, I'm heading out for a drink.
This shit is gonna separate the punks from the playaz.
Let's play.
Supreme Commander
Shadow Government
NYC 2008
Teams + Sudden Death
September 29, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 4:20 AM
I'll keep it very short, as I am currently in the process of receiving a gumjob from an older lady of the night.
As of the moment you read this, there are no more teams. This means that, should you choose, you can kill your teammates. You may have gotten here as a group but, there's only room for one person at the top.
I look forward to seeing treachery.
Also, my rogues are active again and will be hunting you hardcore until there is a winner.
Sudden Death will begin on Tuesday. I shall post more details on the specifics of Sudden Death come tomorrow.
I look forward to making fools of each and every one of you.
<3
Supreme
NYC 2008
Fucking Time Is About To Begin
September 26, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 1:12 PM
...and so, we near the end of the tournament.
Please excuse my recent absences...I was preparing myself in the Shadow Government Hyperbolic Time Chamber, a location used by warriors for training, allowing a year of training to be accomplished in a single day.
I was up in that piece for 3 whole days...no Jack Daniels, no sex, no drugs - just assassin training. It kinda sucked a whole bunch and, honestly, the first few months were just spent rehab-style getting over the shakes and scratching the bugs crawling all over my body off...I felt kinda like Amy Winehouse but, with better skin and less STDs.
STDs aside, considering the skills exhibited by you remaining fools thus far, I may have over trained by a fuckload. So, I'm spending the rest of the weekend drinking, drugging and fucking myself (well, not really myself, more like a bevvy of loose women with no morals and interesting STDs) into a stupor to make sure that you kids have a chance once Sudden Death begins.
That said, yer gonna have to survive until then...and I plan on doing a little bit of hunting with my Rogue assassins tonight and tomorrow.
Sunday I will be at the Bushwick Country Club (618 Grand St. Brooklyn), from 6pm onwards, drinking heavily, groping women, pontificating about life and offering drunken advice on how best to kill me once Sudden Death begins.
I sincerely hope to see dead, living and wanna-be assassins there. For those of you of lesser means, there will be amazing drink specials, assorted roasted meats and other action.
I leave you with the latest sale from my Rogue Assassins:
NYC 2008
StreetWars Awards Party - Sunday Oct 5th @ Le Royal
September 25, 2008 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 10:49 PM
Why hello there Assassins dead and alive, time to get out your prettiest panties for next week's StreetWars Awards/Wrap Party.
Features include:
- No bullshit cover charge. We are rich enough, thank you.
- The full original kill circle revealed, with photos!
- Awards ceremony
- Meet your fellow assassins
- An awesome DJ, guaranteed to make the girls freak
- Your chance to admire/make-out with the Commanders.
- Strong chances of unwanted pregnancies, STD's or at least a heck of a handjob.
We encourage:
- Bring your friends. Everyone, player or non-player, is welcomed
- Costumes are good. Sexy costumes are better. Sexy costumes involving mustaches or gold, double betterer.
- Getting hella wasted.
- You might want to call in sick on Monday... just saying...
NYC 2008
nil satis nisi optimum
September 24, 2008 - Posted by Eevil Midget at 5:50 AM
Official Kill Count: 117 (too many DQs)
Current Kill Leaders: Battle Royale All-Stars (5)
Lazarus Rule: enough to piss off some
Remaining Players: 43
To the few awesome assassins out there. Apologies about the dearth of posted kill stories. Kinda difficult to track them all down when there is a lack of consistency in how they are reported and written. "X is dead. Next target please." is hardly worth my Ctrl C Ctrl V efforts now is it. Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to get good ones published.
To those royally pissed about the walking dead, and by this I mean the ones you thought were out of the game, but oopsy, isn't... please kindly address your boring complaints to our Customer Services. Er, except that we don't really have one.
This government may be corrupt and corrupted, but like any shambolic banana republic country... it works mighty fine for those who know how to work the system.
Finally, I am impressed by the commentary verbiage. Some so scathing. So evil. Shame though that the skillz you clearly possess in press bashing aren't matched by those of creativity and ingenuity that we have come to expect. We prefer holy shit, this is one fucking slick assassin, as opposed to, oh gosh, you are such a smug abusive typewriter. Less keyboard more trigger I say.
A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby.
NYC 2008
kiss my ass
September 23, 2008 - Posted by Eevil Midget at 1:53 PM
I would like to quote the wise words of a mighty fine predecessor:
"You guys are shitty. That's all I have to say. See, even Londoners are coming in here taunting you. And that whole country is made up of the gays. You want the king of England coming into your house, pushing you around and having his way with your woman with his uncircumcised penis?! Fuck no. Then grab your water gun and soak that bitch. (If you get oral from a Brit, can you get gingivitis in the bathing suit area?)".
Where have all the first-rate assassins gone? The dirty sexy filthy wicked fun, the sonnaofabitch humor, the mother fucking panache, the wacky wit, if not the madcap mayhem of being crazy lunatics? Is it too much to ask? Goddaaammit. You are all worthress like Arrec Barrwin.
And all the WHINING and irritating questions about why your target is elusive. Why is everyone so fucking stupid?!
As for insinuations and accusations of shadow government incompetence... What with the political machinations and banking going tits up... hey, it's a crazy world out there. Get over it. Shit happens.
I just downed my bottle of 209 gin to cheer me up. So many losers, so little time. Ugh.
NYC 2008
everything must go
September 22, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 10:44 PM
DQs: do you really want other cities to know how many?!
Remaining Assassins: under 50, but this will dramatically decrease
Kill Leader: Battle Royale All-Stars (5)
The League of Rogue Assassins have already been unleashed. Many have been disqualifuckingfied again. And the only numbers we are concerned about is a higher body count from you fuckers.
NYC 2008
Rotting Hookers and the Current Financial Crisis
September 18, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 6:34 AM
DQs: a crapload
Total Kills: 89
Kill Leader: Tie - Globix (4) and Battle Royale All-Stars (4)
Well...
It's good to be back.
I must humbly apologize for my absence but, I was called to a sekrit meeting with the Illuminati and spent the past few days organizing the collapse of the US financial market...you kids like my work?
I'm sure this has affected some of you and I would tell you that I'm sorry for meddling in your country's affairs but, I wanted a bunch more money and this has just made me a fuckload of it (invest in gold bitches!!!)...and I've been spending a good deal of it on hookers, liquor and blow.
Yeah...so like actually...truth be told, that Illuminati meeting was kinda short, it was the part with the prostitutes, Jack and cocaine that really took up most of my time. Granted, now I feel like an ashtray took a shit in my mouth but, it really was worth it. My only issue is that now I have all these prostitute's bodies strewn about my opulent palace and they are really taking away from the overall opulence...well...not them exactly, it's just the smell...
Basically, what I'm trying to tell you is that I have dead, decomposing prostitutes in my fucking living room...granted, they still look good and with some lube and about 4 minutes on high in the mircowave, they still feel good but, they don't smell so hot anymore and I'm kinda looking to get rid of them.
So, If any of you need some dead whores or have a good dead hooker pick up service or drop-off spot, please share that information with me. I tried looking up one of the "come get a dead whore" services in the yellow pages but, I can't seem to find anything there...WTF?!?! This is NYC!!! What the fuck is going on here? I was sure there was a service I used a few years ago...that asshole Bloomberg probably regulated them out of business or something...so, yeah...any help would be appreciated.
I will be, once again, at Drinks for the Dead this Sunday at Bushwick Country Club this Sunday...come out, meet your fellow dead assassins, drink with me and maybe see/join me in killing a few more prostitutes. It will be a night to remember. Promise.
...and now, we have a bunch of kill stories to catch up on...
ACRONY doused by the Urban Hippy
To the credit of my victim, he's been a very hard man to track down. His neighbors revealed nothing, his company…even less. Finally, the infinite patience of the seemingly-gentle Hippy beginning to wear thin, I decided to take the fight to his home turf. I found out from a dude in the corner deli (who used to live in my target's building) that there was no elevator, only one set of stairs, no roof access, and a side door at ground level that lead to the series of back alleys behind the building. Climbing a few fences and fire escapes confirmed this. Even better, there was a window next to the side door through which I had a partial view of the stairs, and the door was ajar. Three hours later, a group of people descended. I wasn't positive that my target was actually one of them, so I took a risk and went through the door into the lobby to get a solid ID. If having a stranger walk through a rarely-used side entrance seemed suspicious, my newspaper, coffee cup, and genuine state of hung-over'dness must have assuaged his fears. Target established, I ambled out the front door ahead of them, turned the corner, waited a moment, and drew. I got him just as he came out the front door…double tapped in the throat…never even had time to scream. As Nixon said…never trust those damned hippies.Living in fear, as always
The Urban Hippy
***
Child Actor Canceled Ron & Fez
Supreme Commander & Shadow Government,Team Child Actor eliminated Team Ron & Fez this evening at about 8:30pm. After putting in a bunch of hours this week at the three different targets' homes/jobs, team Child Actor finally caught all of them in one spot. Child Actor posed a question to the target's neighbor as a distraction and, as the team leader begin firing defensive shots, CA returned fire. After a weapons malfunction on R&F's defensive, CA hit the shoulder & back of the Ron & Fez team leader with a few rounds. Cards obtained.
***
Drywall renovated El Fabuloso
Alas, El Fabuloso is no more-o. As of 9:15am this morning, El Fabuloso has found his final resting place with the guidance of Agent Drywall. After a long, and painfully sobering, two and a half hour stake out, these two warriors met resulting in the only outcome that I ever saw coming.R.I.P. El Fabuloso.
It was fun while you lasted.
***
Agent Courvoisier killed Borko Assassins
Agent Mebee - captain of team Borko) met a watery demise today due to her love of animals. After a 36 hour stake out and a near resignation of defeat by this agent the target emerged at the end of her block after not having been home all weekend. Me and the trusty stead swung into action and took off slowly down the block towards her. Strange man, strange dog on the block raised no questions for Agent Mebee. "Ohhhh, what a cute dog, is he nice?" Of course he is, he is trained to only attack on command. She then kneels down to pet the beast and never even saw me take out the water gun. I then tell Agent Mebee that it is time for me and the beast to take care of business and move on. She then looks up and gets it square in the chest. I swear I almost gave up. My car is filled with gatorade bottles now filled with lemon-lime while they were full of fruit punch when they were bought. Had coffee with the neighbors yesterday, beers with the homeboys on the corner last night and then slept in the car. I know have a fear of small places, Mebee now has a fear of dogs - woof, woof.Gimmee more, who's next - Agent Courvoisier, still dry.
***
Pop N Lock popped all over Lips McGhee
Supreme-Like Abe Lincoln, Christopher Wallace and the many more before her, Agent Lips McGhee was assassinated on Friday evening with style and grace to spare. The Time: approx 2am. The Place: Mere steps away from the safety of the beautiful local watering hole, the Cargo Cafe. The Weapon of Choice: A healthy sized Water Grenade.
Team Pop n Lock threw a massive themed party this weekend, Prom Night 1984. Spiked punch and Assassinations were a plenty, as it turns out there were many many shadow government agents in attendance. Tension was high. Hair was high. I was high.
Stalking through a sea of Blue Tuxedo’s and Flock of Seagulls Do’s, we spotted our mark done up in an 80’s pink prom dress donning a red wig. Visions of Carrie began to play in our minds, except this time it would be pure spring water (we only kill with the best ingredients), not pig’s blood.
We let the night play out until she had been outside for a cigarette break enough times to feel comfortable. Then, sporting a tuxedo with tails, and a wicked new mustache (respect!), Agent Deluge approached McGhee, identified her, and took her out in front of the entire Senior Class of 1984. It was one for the yearbook.
I am led to believe there were at least 2 to 3 other assassinations that night, a night which will now forever be known as The Prom Night Massacre of ‘84.
We’re locked, loaded and ready to go...411 please...
Agent Midnight Marauder & Agent Deluge
Team Pop n Lock
***
What a depressing fucking day - Kill Report for Team Ron & Fez from Team Ron & Fez
Probably should of sent this last night, but the boozing happened pretty quickly after our untimely deaths.I'm sad to report that Team Ron & Fez has been eliminated from this year's Street Wars. We began the day with an impromptu stakeout, our new target being on the same block as one of us. Agent Hicks was neutralized in a midmorning shoot out with Agent Olivia, having jumped the gun on his kill attempt, not unlike a silly goose. Once backup arrived later on in the afternoon a new stakeout was begun to no avail. We had visual confirmation of the target, but she got spooked and opted to stay in for the night from the looks of it. And as luck would have it, and this is no fucking lie, a black cat passed in front of Agent Torpedo Vegas, a horrible premonition which we all should of taken more seriously.
After we decided to call it a day and wait for Agent Hicks' neutralization to wear off, the team went back to Agent I Am the Liquor's home to regroup and most likely get high as fuck. With Hicks at point we filed into Liquor's place. Hicks, stupidly assuming that his team members were behind him, looked back and saw that they were still in the doorway as he was halfway up the stairs. Torpedo Vegas announced someone was knocking on the door. Liquor drew his gun and sidestepped to the wall next to the door, correctly assuming our assassin was about to take his shot at us, since we haven't had visual contact with him all week and this was his last day to get an attempt. Vegas opened the door, and low and behold Liquor's gun had a horrible malfunction. Three pulls of the trigger and no water.
Agent Hicks just stared on in horror as the entire scene played out below him. Our Assassin, Agent Child Actor took his shot, nailing our team leader, Liquor, twice, thus ending our game. Vegas then also took a shot to the body. What a way to go. We invited Child Actor up afterwards, got high and wished him well. We gave up all our cards to him, he deserved it. A combination of luck, perseverance and our own god damn stupidity has gotten us ejected from Street Wars 2008. It's a shitty feeling, it's not fun anymore to wake up when the sun isn't up. We don't have to look over our shoulders coming home. We can't grill random strangers on the train, thinking "Is that them?", "Why is that guy wearing a hoody when its 75 degrees outside?", "Do they have water guns in those bags?". We can only hope that Street Wars doesn't take such a long hiatus this time and comes back soon to New York. What a clusterfucky end to a great week, we're going to miss it.
***
More stories to cum.
NYC 2008
i spy with my eevil eye
September 17, 2008 - Posted by Eevil Midget at 7:29 AM
Having been summoned by the Commanders from my recent training of new recruits for the League of Rogue Assassins, I now return, and my beautiful but wicked twinkling eyes are looking at those who remain. How you doin?
Having met the The Monarch, I was very much intrigued by the skills your city had to offer. I am therefore aghast to see so many poor attempts at being assassins though. Even the destitute from drought-ridden third world countries, when motivated, find ways to wet their appetites (and if you're such a sucker thinking about correcting my spelling there, don't bother, because you've just missed a delightful pun).
To those who have proved themselves worthy, I regret that we have not provided more efficient wielders of watery weaponry. Some reassignments have been delivered.
All hail the Supreme Commander.
All hail the Mustache Commander.
I want to see some All-American Action now please.
Something beginning with A ss A ssin A tion.
NYC 2008
It's Death Tax season... time to file your kill attempts
September 15, 2008 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 11:17 PM
Week one is over, and if you haven't got a kill yet, it is time to file your Kill Attempts.
**IMPORTANT**For all active assassins without an official kill:
Anyone without a kill who doesn't file by 1:00am Wednesday is automatically eliminated. Even if you have already emailed us, be sure to submit your attempt officially again. Just to make sure nothing get's lost in the shuffle.
For the rest of you. Stay sharp. Know that in the next few days, your target could get disqualified and you may have to start all over on a new target. Best to just wet them yourselves.
NYC 2008
Drinks for the Dead: The Aftermath
September 13, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 8:04 AM
Total Kill Count: 62
Kill Leaders: Team Globix (4)
Ahhh...the things you missed if you were too scurred to head out to drinks for the dead...
I strongly suggest you kids make it out to the next one...there is a significant amount of wheeling and dealing going on, in addition to the copious amounts of drinking. It is the place where backdoor deals (that is actually a real reference to deals and not a metaphor for anal sex) are made and there is always a chance for action...there were quite a few living assassins in attendance...had their assassins showed up, it would have been a slaughter house as people were drunk as shit.
There is a fine line between drinking because you are an assassin and drinking because you are a drunk. I am pleased to report that most of the players are straight up drunks.
"Glory to the Supreme Commander
As requested your target an agent Golda has been investigated and dealt with accordingly. Upon target acquistion on Wensday 2:59 pm. Dead cell sprung into action gathering info on said target. Shulki was no consquence to us i did find his poorly written text blog and him whining about tickets to israel for sale. It was worthless in terms of killing but helped me indentify the type of guy he is. I found all sorts of interesting information about Golda,such as she attended a gym class at Chelsea piers How to fight like a girl:Xena the warrior princes self blah blah blah something defense class. Reading the article she sounded like real stuck up yuppie bitch. As evidenced by her unimpressive body shot and her horrifying head shot as one of the boys put it. We know that she'd be an easy kill. Either way we found her real work address since she so conviently typed 300 instead of 330. We confirmed her work location, other site of work (herzon or something like that) and possible places of worship. As I told you on the phone my liege 'her faith shall not save her' and needed rulings on houses of worship. We set our plan in motion and under the dreay skies of 9/11 we were determined to end her not only for the Shadow gov't and brother/sister assassins but for the good ol' usa.We set out and confirmed her morning work address. The target made herself clearly knowing with her terrible taste in accessories and horrible taste in head wear. We at that point could have killed her but in your wise,judicous ruling told us to consider this new address safe for it could have been some type-o. The though of meeting you probably had her typing the info out with one hand if you know that i mean. In any case we knew where she was then we called in the rest of the unit around 11 we began setting up the web. We confirmed her to still be in the building. Then we patiently waited. We all formed up like mother fucking voltron and began to squeeze the building. Then she appeared , she would have gotten away if it wasn't for her jowls. That's how i realized it was her leaving. we gave chase and the stalker calmly placed a shot in the back of her head. Our samurai witnessed it and i was there with the cannon ready to fire if shit went down. But she ignored it?! we conviened amongst ourselves and reset up the web nothing of that ilk came out of the office. At that point we were bored and begain entering the building and being aggressive for shits and giggles. She returned like a jackass. We didn't have to waste the water on a corpse.
sigh when will you guys learn you fuck with a bull you get the horns. Nothing escapes the all seeing eye of the Shadow Government.
Hail SG
Globix finished off the Whoa-men and is now the current kill leader
What Globix Corp. says, Globix Corp. does, without reserve or trepidation!Like a prediction from an old raggedy toothed psychic suffering
gonorrhea , FlipDog said Bad Mamma Jamma would go down in short order.
4 hours later that same day, Brock Samson, OSI protege, adventurer and
above all, love machine, delivered a package of wet death upon the
voodoo queen.Globix Corporation started the hunt last night with the full team in
attendance. We had the front, the back, the inside, and the outside
covered, but our little mamma was nowhere to be seen. Using my years
of experience in psychological analysis(It was an elective when I got
my Masters in cruel and unusual tortures.) I posited the our mark
wasn't going to make her appearance till 10 at the least, so I hit up
my handler for whiskey and herbal refreshment. Further analysis by the
team including apt snooping lead us to believe this WHOA-Men captain
was actually in for the night since she left work, so we decided it
was time to get sauced as any Corporation does during downtime, in the
morning, and at lunch. Tomorrow is another day and we have patience.Working independantly like terrorist cells, we operated during the
day. Knowing my need for security the city and the fed mobilized
downtown around my office providing a safe haven spanning more than
one city block. I had a full sniper detail on roofs around the world
trade center pit, and riot gear cops ensuring no crazy Oswald or
Hinckley character was going to take me out, or even tail me. With
mine and my teams future safe and guarded by this great city we
returned to the hunt.As FlipDog working independently from our outpost in Brooklyn moved in
for the kill on Gold E Lox, I was getting into position at the Bad
Mamma Jamma's place. I was just the ubiquitas guy waiting for a
friend. Ding! Text from FlipDog. "Gold E Lox has been shmeared on a
bagel. May she Drie in peace." Perfect, now Bad Mamma Jamma thinks her
assassin is in Brooklyn, maybe she'll let her guard down. I wait, I
have visitors, catch up with my contacts around the city and call my
Mark for a little scouting.BS: Hi XXXXX,
BMJ:Yes.
BS: Hi, this is Ted Stimson, from Tech Services at work.
BMJ: I'm sorry, who?
BS: Ted Stimson. Look, we've been getting alerts of some high email
traffic, and large data transfers on your account. Is everything
alright. Do you have your Blackberry with you?
BMJ: I don't have a Blackberry.
BS: Oh, we seem to have that on our records, well then do you have
email on your phone?
BMJ: No, I don't. Who is this again?
BS: Ted Stimson, look me up on the intranet. I work at Tech Services.
Ok, look we're going to monitor this and dig a little, are you going
to be available by the phone if we have any more questions?
BMJ: Yes.
BS: OK, great, thanks. Bye.
BMJ: Bye.Ok, so there was no ambient noise, she's not outside, doubtful she's
stalking, she's either home or at a friends, and I know she's not one
of the myriad of women walking down the street on her Blackberry. It's
time to get aggressive. I easily make entry to the building via the
side entrance next to the crack park behind the building and head to
her floor, using deduction skills Sherlock Holmes would be jealous of,
I determine the premises was still vacant. I could wait or I could
hunker down. Brock Samson doesn't need to hunker down, Brock Samson
weighs his odds, judges his victim, and knows she's not coming back
till after 10. I thought it before, and think it again. Time to get
sauced.I meet a group of lady's at Mercury Bar, and instantly the bartender
hooks up my Dirty Vodka, 3 Olives. I regile them with stories of my
adventures, and drink in the night. It's fierce and there's lots to
do, like get my kill. 9:45 rolls around and my fingers getting itchy,
maybe it was the itchy nerve I've had since Bosnia, or maybe it was
the smell in the air, but I knew I had to get back.Once again, with the skills of "The Shadow" I'm in her building and at
her door. There's voices, conversations, the lights are on, did I miss
her? How could I miss her, I FELT! she wasn't home. Ok, regroup,
conference in the stairwell. Team advice, "No man is an island. Not
even ME!" FlipDog my partner, my hombre, my moustache if you will,
although we never fought a bear together, picks up the phone at my
call. "Is she home? Are we done tonight? Should I come tomorrow?"
Sounds likely, but it don't feel that way. I start getting off the
phone and heading to the elevator when a couple walks by, the girl...
a blonde! But the guy was in front of me.... I play it cool, a guy
walking to the elevator... Ok, look back, is that them, what apartment
are they going toooo.Yes, that's it, that's her, I start flying down the hallway, my
shooter in my hand outstretched like Adam reaching out to GOD, I was
blazing down the hallway like Keanu in the Matrix, and oh so Bad Mamma
Jamma starts screaming, "I knew it." as she fumbles for her keys and
her friend covers her from my oncoming spray. She is quick with those
fingers and get's entry into her place, I careen in front of her door,
spraying it like Zorro, but she's inside. Do I sigh in desperation? No
way, I'm Brock Samson mother fuckers! And she left her keys in the
door. I could of easily pushed it open and shot her without gaining
entry, but I like to play with kills, and my women, so I pull back a
sec and wait. Let her stew! What's she going to do without her keys.
I'm not in view of the peeper... and her roommate reaches for the keys
but is met with a spray in the eyes to protect my bargaining chip. She
shrinks away reluctant to try again. They know I'm there and I'm not
leaving. I let the keys jingle to show I mean business, and Bad Mamma
Jamma cracks. She cracks! And after only one jingle! No, "Warriors,
come out and playayay. Waarrriiiorrrs, come out and playayayayay!",
no, it only took one jingle and she was done. Like a white flag from
behind her door, she says "Alright, I'm done.", pops it open and
offers up her Ass. Ofcourse I was locked and loaded, and with an ass
like that, I was happy and only too eager to give her a spray. Cheers
to Bad Mamma Jamma, maybe next time she'll at least have a gun!So this makes 4 kills in 4 days, and every target we've had we've
taken out. This includes subordinates. We're not just plucking
captains, so people beware. Globix Corporation is the new kid on the
corporate park. You know the fifth column X-files talked about? We
bought them out years ago. You know G.W. Bush? He's in our pocket!
Illuminati, that's what I call my nightlight when I shoot with my
sniper rifle.In short!
GLOBIX CORP AIN'T NOTHIN' TO FUCK WITH!
GLOBIX CORP AIN'T NOTHIN' TO FUCK WITH!
GLOBIX CORP AIN'T NOTHIN' TO FUCK WITH!
GLOBIX CORP AIN'T NOTHIN' TO FUCK WITH!
***
The Elders of Zion issued a Cherem edict against Agent Johanna Harris
To The Powers That Be In The Shadow GovernmentTeam Elders of Zion took out their target, agent Jordan Harris.
After numerous unsuccessful stake outs we decided that today would be the day of the kill. We woke up early and split up. Agent LazyNinja stalked out the targets home while agent Dachs took up a position at her work. After hours of waiting, hands cramped and palms clammy with sweat from clutching my weapons handle, we struck up a witty banter with our target via txt messaging. Eventualy she emerged from her abode and was taken out by agent LazyNinja. We tip our hats to agent Jordan Harris she was truly distinguished in the face of her own demise.Killcode: h7Lbnep1L_Ut63ok_
ID:789From The Protocals of the Elders of Zion:: Friday; 9/12/2008
***
Cupcake Commando aquatically defenestrated Flomax of the Hihats
It is with great pleasure that I, cupcake commando, report my first kill.It was a tough one, as agent Flomax seemed to never be home, and he didn't have a centralized job that I could stake out. I did some recon on Monday and discovered that his main office was in Westbury, not NYC as it said on his sheet. I called the office to inquire if he was in, and the secretary informed me that he was not in but the office closes at 4. If they close at 4, I figured they must open early. Monday night I parked directly outside his apartment for four hours with no sign of him. Hungry and having a major case of the sobers, I met a friend at a bar for some drinks. After, another hour of watching, and nothing.
I went to his office in Westbury on tuesday morning to prepare for my wednesday stakeout. Industrial area, I could blend in easily. But fuck was it far from civilization. Tuesday evening I had another engagement and couldn't hunt.
Wednesday morning I woke up at the buttcrack of dawn and drove my sleep deprived ass to his office. This would have to be precise, as the front of his building was a parking lot (and legal), but it was only about 3 car lengths wide. A few quick steps and he'd be inside the office and untouchable. Should he park on the street, he'd only have about a 5 second walk from the sidewalk across the parking lot to the office door. I waited. And waited. And at about 745am, employees started showing up for work. At around 845, with no sign of him, I called and inquired if the target was inside. Annoyed, suspicious, and bitchy, the receptionist told me that while he is employed there, he NEVER comes to the office. Snottily asking if she could help me, I hung up, and drove off, pissed. And tired. And late to work. Wed evening, and I'm sitting down the street from his apartment again with a clear view of the door. Waited about an hour and a half, then had to leave for dinner plans. (Azuki, should anyone not know it, is the shit. Free unlimited sake with dinner) Drunk, and it getting late, I thought it best to go home. I charged down the street of my apartment, stumbling, with a huge neon water gun in my hands, unchallenged. Walked right in my front door a little upset that I had yet to see my assassin, but that all changed with the tequila I had once inside. Tequila is awesome.
Was outside his apartment again this morning. No sign of him. Had to leave for work. Left my office around 6pm, was outside his apartment watching, waiting by 630. I see a girl leave the building and wait outside. I think she might be his lookout, but turns out This Is It I say to myself. I approach her, and shyly give her the rundown. She grins, and says "I can't let you in because my roommate is your target!" I'm angry at myself for giving myself away so easily. I figure I'm fucked now, she knows what I look like, knows what my car looks like, and is going to give it all up to the roommate. We chat for a little anyway, and we both have conflicting information on her roommate. Turns out her roommate is NOT my target. Stroke of luck. She then says, "sure, go right on in!" and unlocks the door for me. She wishes me luck as I head on upstairs, quietly. The walls are paper thin. I can hear someone screaming downstairs. I creep up the first flight of stairs, right up to the door. I quietly press my ear against it, and I can hear muffled voices. He's inside. I head down the hall, and park my ass on the steps. From the steps, I can just see the top corner of his door. If he were to look out the peep hole, or open the door and look down the hall, he wouldn't be able to see me. I sit. I sit some more. Somewhere, in an apartment somewhere, someone farts. Seriously. And it's not a quiet little fart, it's fucking echoing through the building. This was the most insane fart I've ever heard. I'm trying so hard not to laugh. I literally have to bite my tongue to stop myself from making any noise. Tears streaming from my eyes, I hear a noise. A lock. I peek over and see the top of the door; it swings open. I press my back up against the wall and try to be as flat as possible. OK, Here Goes I say to myself. It's at this point that I don't give a fuck if it's my target or his roommate, someone's getting wetted. Target is heading down the stairs. I approach, and immediately forget his name. "Dan? Jimmy? Roger?" I tried about 9 names, one of which must have been his, because he looks up at me and I immediately recognize that Yes, it IS my target. I fire, hitting him square in the chest. Victory. What did him in? Chinese food delivery.
Agent Flomax was a gentleman about it; nice guy. He didn't get his package yet, so he didn't have his card. Please send me my next assignment.
-cupcake commando
***
Agent Orange spread his herbicide all over the Shadow Hunter
I'm happy to report that Agent Shadow Hunter went down, without a fight but not without (a tiny bit of) drama.i soaked the sucker today at 5:10p after he crossed the street to hit
the local deli to stock up on Arizona ice tea. after getting
thoroughly showered he immediately disputed the kill, asserting that
he was still in his safe zone.
A quick phone call to the Supreme Commander clarified the situation
and the drama was over.
Interestingly enough, after asking him for his ID he admitted that he
just got back to the US and didn't even pickup his package yet...
...countless hours in front of his house where wasted... ..oh well...in related news, i soaked a guy called "Trevor" from the team thats
after me, last night at around 11:30pm in fronty of my house.
his wife is still out there and eager to have drunken sloppy sex with
me but at least hubby wont get in the way.for now i'll go back to plotting my evening in the bar and are
awaiting further instructions about who's next.until then i remain,
Agent Orange
***
The Lone Rangers scalped Agent BVN
Supreme Commander,We have dispatched Agent BVN (which we assume stands for Brainless Vaginal Necrophiliac), unleashing liquid death on this pudgy, putrid programmer. He was arrogantly brandishing his weapon outside a bar on Bleeker, trying to impress a female who was obviously waiting for a real man to show up. Needless to say, not only did we take his card (killcode: GwNb2ESUrP5HqH4QJ), we took his bitch too (36-23.5-35).
We want more.
In umbra, igitur, pugnabimus,
Arctic Shade
***
Iceman defrosted PSmith temporary leader of Your Watery Grave
Murder Death Kill.Ms Psmith, leader of The Watery Grave has been eliminated.
Killcode: B1srLpXbikqn2QUImu
After sketchily lurking on 127th street for 2 hours, entrance into the target's residence was gained. Another 2 hours later she emerged from her lair to be met with an aerial assault.
I kill like I fly: Ice cold, no mistakes.
Respectfully requesting new targets.
***
Ron and Fez curbed Dark Asian
After two days of constant surveillance our persistence paid off. Our target seemed to not even live where he said he did, since not one light was see on in his home for the last two days. And yesterday one of us was kicked off a stoop for smoking cigarettes, god for fucking bid you have a cigarette butt on your stoop. Cock Knocking neightbors aside, one of our team members decided to run by Dark Asian's home in the morning, trying to nail him before work.As soon as they reached the targets home, they saw the lights on and our target leaving his apartment. We were spotted but were able to cut Dark Asian off two blocks away before he hit the train. The poor young man was cut down in the street, riddled with water and shame, he was armed but did not have his weapon in hand. Unfortunately our team all had work this morning so we couldn't get drunk, we'll save it for later tonight. So we just jumped on the train to our jobs, like confused runaway bisexual BFF's.
***
Propaganda shut down Blackout City
Thought you might enjoy some reading other than my killcode. Hope you like my recap/short story:As the front door rattled, my friend Mike from Canada gave me a significant look from atop the planter directly in front of the apartment building. This was it, the moment that would make it all worth it. The strange stares, the disapproving glances, the people muttering to themselves—wondering why two twenty-somethings were lying in wait with waterguns. This was an ambush, pure and simple. This was StreetWars.
I learned early on that I am not a stealthy individual. Earlier in the week, after Mustache Commander and Supreme Commander handed me my targets (two gentlemen under the name Team Blackout City), I had thought I could quickly oust my two targets. Waiting outside that first building on Monday night, I foolishly tried to convince a young professional-looking guy to let me into the building so I could soak one of the team members. He hemmed and hawed, told me that he didn’t know who I was talking about, and in either case, that guy wasn’t home.
Strange, I had thought. Removing that encounter from my mind I waited until an elderly gentleman entered the building. Tiptoeing to the apartment, I knocked but heard no response. Peering in, I saw the lights on but no one home. No problem. I could wait patiently on the steps next to the apartment.
When the door opened, I shot blindly. I didn’t consider my target could have a roommate. I didn’t think it could be the guy who wouldn’t let me into the building. Visibly upset and far more muscular than I, he was yelling something about me ruining his shirt on the way to seeing his girlfriend and her mom. He asked how old I was in that condescending “what’s wrong with you?” tone. I muttered an apology, but that wasn’t enough. As he pulled out his cell phone, I knew I couldn’t escape. They now had a picture of me. The next day, both their Facebook profiles would have my photo. The team leader, codename Mayor Dinkins, would change his status to “I now know the face of stupid.”
After some Red Mango yogurt, I trudged to the other building, same plan in mind. This time, when I knocked on the apartment door, there was an answer. This time, the roommate wasn’t pissed off. He said he understood, even if I didn’t believe that he wasn’t my target. I asked to see some ID.
My problem, I quickly realized, is these two guys, the two men I had to assassinate, were average looking Caucasians. It may sound racist to say that suddenly I realized all white people look the same, but as I’m white myself I’m allowed to make those kinds of generalizations.
This wasn’t Battleship. I couldn’t just shoot blindly, hoping to hit. This was an intricate chess match. I would need to draw their team leader out, make him identify himself. And as with any chess match, I might need to sacrifice a pawn to get the king.
“There’s no way we’re getting up tomorrow,” my friend Mike from Canada had said. Since he was staying with me for a few days, he was the obvious choice for sacrifice. But social lives are important too, and we had drunk a significant amount of beer on Thursday night. “I’m not gonna wake up, no matter what.” Dagger.
I saw his point, it was almost 3AM, and I had wanted to wake up at 5:30 to ensure my victory. Conceding this fact, and my own drunkenness, I set my alarm for 7AM. And when that buzzer hit, my body was trying to tell me that it wasn’t willing to go killing this morning. But after popping a couple Tylenol, I knew it was time to try waking Mike from Canada. After some resistance, and almost going back to sleep, we were on our way.
The plan was simple. Mike from Canada would sit on the planter directly in front of the apartment building, reading, while an empty watergun would sit beside him. Mike from Canada’s hardest job was choosing which book to bring: he decided to leave the Baudrillard at home and bring the Vonnegut—apparently it’s acceptable to drench The Cat’s Cradle, but not The Illusion of the End. I knew my friend’s loyalties.Anyone in the game would shoot the unsuspecting lookout, outing himself as my target. Unless of course, they were smart and decided to quickly walk by, knowing that I apparently can’t tell one white guy from another. In fact, I almost thought that had happened, and chased down a sharply dressed guy only to realize it was the roommate again. The one who had been nice. After asking for some ID (again), I sent him on his way as he was talking on his cell phone. Sending a warning.
So as that door opened, I knew this was it. This was my one shot. Water came bursting out toward the planter. Mike from Canada got wet and ran away. I swooped in, running by, and with two guns in hand hit my target. Mayor Dinkins had been vanquished. The feeling. The rush. This must be what real assassins felt like, minus 1000, and without all that messy cleanup.
Taking my trophy, the Mayor's Street Wars ID, I had my action movie one liner ready:
“Now *I* know the face of stupid,” I said. “And it’s all wet.”
---
Extra! Extra! Mayor Dinkins was assassinated this morning!!
At a little after 7, Mayor Dinkins emerged from his Village duplex, groggy, eyes still blood shot from drugs and stinking of imported single malt. Behind him a bed full of satisfied interns, in front a city to run and lives to ruin. Upon emerging, the sun hit his eyes and the smell of urine hit his nose on of his Secret Service agents noticed a suspicious character and dove into action, firing in all directions. When the echoes of the shots faded, the threat had escaped and secret service called the area clear. As security turned to check on one of The Cities finest Mayors, they noticed his custom suit with one single shot through the imported silk where if he had one his heart would have been.
The actual assassin, hidden on the grassy knoll behind a homeless man stood defiantly. There eyes locked bested by the "lobbed snowball in the air, hard thrown snowball in your face" trick that runs rampant on middle school playgrounds throughout the city, the "threat" he was protected from was only a decoy.
With the morning sun on his face and weeping whores at his back, Dinkins knew he would not be up for reelection. Chalk it!
***
The River Rats hooked up Agent Starz with some of that sweet, sweet bubonic plague
Shadow Government, Starz is no longer in this plain of existence. We River Rats infected him with rabies, the plague, and a bad case of crabs. He died wriggling around on the floor of bodega in agonizing pain. He did put up a fight though. I and a fellow assassin initially stake out his home, we were positioning ourselves in a restaurant directly opposite of his front doorway just as he emerged. Before we could get a good shot he sprinted out towards the nearest subway station. My partner in killing pursued on foot but alas, Starz was one fast fucker. This would not be allowed to happen again. We infiltrated his job an for the low cost of five dollars a coworker told us where he was and his exact schedule for the next day-there is just no loyalty in the world. Once again we positioned ourselves at his home, but this time in the Ratmobile. He emerged once again right according to schedule. Not feeling threatened and probably still high on the glory of his escape, he walked into a nearby bodega. I followed and took it upon myself to end him in the form of point blank blast to the chest. - Agent Apollo of The River Rats
***
Mikey FX got a double kill
Sorry for the late report but not all assassins are cold blooded killers and I had a little family business to attend to before I could submit my kills via the worldwide web.Anyway I killed two agents this morning........
Fox - Killcode: Lcvmhwb_XgdEv6Imp
Cobra Kai - Killcode: qTyu337MTdOYDf7
After a rough start to my career as a contract killer thanks to a faulty water balloon which did not burst on my target (but had the negative effect of revealing my identity to one of my prey) followed by a long and ultimately fruitless six hour stakeout (which was ended by a roving police car, thanks to the locals implying that I may have been loitering in the same place for 6 hours!?!?!) I decided I had to regroup and make sure I did not make the same mistake twice. I was badly prepared on my first assassination attempt and I paid the price. So after a lot of thought, I decided to return to the scene of my first humiliation in disguise and waited patiently to see if my targets had switched up. As Fox came along we saw each other and I was determined not to miss again. So after a little gun fight and swift chase, I eliminated her. All that remained was for me to wait for Cobra Kai to emerge from his domicile and when he eventually emerged (which he did attempted to do through the service entrance about fifteen minutes later) I eliminated him too. Two kills within half an hour made the hours of staking out and humiliating mistake so worth the hassle. They were both absolutely lovely people too!!
Now I await further instruction for my next target.......
***
The Knub drunk drove all over DWI
Shadow Government,I am writing to inform that DWI (Killcode:rPbN3iUd5PdtPe8) has been eliminated. It is my first kill in streetwars and I am eager for the taste of new blood.
The story goes as follows:
Astonishment set in when I first viewed the file containing my mark; Dwight is a friend of mine for many years, a business colleague, and the one who introduced me to streetwars. My first reaction was mixed: I was excited about the hunt, but felt the prey was being handed to me on a platter. I decided, for the sake of fairness, to only take advantage of our relationship as a last resort. I would end his life the old fashioned - attack outside his home - so I staked out his street every day after work. Frustration set in as several days went by without spotting the mark. On the 4th night (Thursday), I was in front of his apartment building around 8PM, waiting as usual, when I suddenly heard someone call out my name. Startled, I looked about and found Dwight calling out to me from a second story apartment (I thought he lived on the first). As I approached, the first question was inevitable:
"What are you doing here? Am I your target?"
As he just simply revealed himself, I decided that a kill at this point would be anticlimatic, so I made up a story about meeting someone for drinks down the block and wound up being invited inside. Severel minutes of casual conversation followed, through which I learned that he would be leaving for LA for a long weekend. Imagining the frustration that would have been in store for me had I continued my daily stalking (while he was out of state!), I decided that this must end right then and there. I pulled out my weapon, saw the shock in his eyes, and unleashed my full aquatic fury. After a few minutes of disbelief - "No way! Are you serious? Dude...really...are you serious?!" - he handed over his card, I took him out for a beer, and we got wasted. I think the irony of his situation may have been unsettling at first, but he made a rookie mistake: there are no friends in streetwars.
I'm looking forward to a challenge
Regards,
The Knub
NYC 2008
Pollice Verso
September 11, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 5:29 AM
Agent Shuki has apologized to me profusely in both email and in video...my judgment after the video. Though the title of the posting should give away the decision...
Shuki, I am not the evil sociopath that I am often made out to be. Deep, deep inside, somewhere, I have a kind and forgiving heart. I accept your apology. I appreciate the effort you made and understand it was (possibly) a misunderstanding, so I forgive you.
I forgive you.
The people do not. The public has spoken...and they clamor for blood...and I must deliver. The people must be appeased, their bloodlust fed and encouraged. They must have their bread and circuses. I can do nothing but sate their thirst.
Thumbs down, homey.
Judgment is death.
Kill stories below.
:)
Supreme
Browntrout unsweetened the Sugar Bears by killing Agent Lonnie.
Day One. 10 p.m.Another shit night in Shit City - er - Staten Island (it's what you were all thinking, let's admit it). We (Agent Zeb and Agent Coulion,) begin a stakeout like any other. Target One - We wait outside his house, staring at his red Shelby GT500 Mustang for a good hour before realizing that orange soda and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups will keep us going. We head one block west to the nearbyCVS drugstore. As we smoke some stress-relieving cancer sticks, things get interesting.
The oh-so-easily-recognizable mustang we had watched just minutes earlier had now turned into the CVS parking lot and proceeded to park in the same empty row that our black, tinted windowed vehicle occupied - enjoying a smoke through a cracked open window, completely oblivious to our presence.
It felt like hours watching our target sitting just feet away from us as we shook with adrenaline and ached to take action. But lo and behold he finally pulled away, and headed west down Arthur Kill Road. We flew around the next block to avoid suspicion before tailing him through yellow traffic lights and hard turns. Target One leads us on an 18 mile car chase lasting approximately 2 hours up, down, and around two major Staten Island highways. Target One caught on to us, quickly breaking on the shoulder to 'let us pass' only to catch up to us, giving us the grill down of a lifetime (hardly). He tried to give us the slip, taking a sneaky turn off an exit, but we're just too damn good for suchamateur moves. We continue southbound on 440 and watched our target race off the highway. We floor it to the next exit, pull into the service road gas station, reverse our vehicle against a fence in the guise of being 'just a parked car.' And we wait.
Mere seconds later the mustang soared past us, thinking he's in the clear. But, oh, how wrong he was. . .
Trailing a car or so behind to avoid his attention we twisted and turned around the back roads of the forgotten borough trying to keep up. After a sharp turn and three Sunday drivers slowing us down we began to lose hope, second guessing ourselves that the target high-tailed it down a side street and was making a clear get away. We took a sharp right turn but caught a glimpse of themustang through a row of trees heading in the opposite direction. Rather than pulling a 180 we continue full speed down a narrow road we assumed would lead us right behind our now escaping target. Tiresscreech as we come to what revealed itself to be the dead end of a community housing driveway, kick it in reverse backtracking down the driveway faster than we came in. Back on track a red light up ahead allows us to get right up his ass heading straight for the sameCVS . We anticipate his moves, cut across the familiar parking lot, cutting down the block before his and park our car just out of his line of sight as he pulls into his driveway.Zeb jumps from our car in an attempt to sneak up behind the target, but the King of Sting was no where near leaving his pretty little whip.Zeb returns to our car. It appears to be a stalemate until....an idea!
We pull up dead behind the mustang and stop, the front passengers staring directly into the red beauty. He thinks we're just fucking with him, but little does he know, Zeb is creeps out the back passenger door and takes cover behind a parked car directly across the street from the target. Our car speeds off, leaving Zeb to take out Target One on his own.Parking around the block from the waiting game that is coming to a slow boil, a cigarette break is taken when it comes to our attention thatZeb had forgotten his cell in the back seat! Concerned and unaware of what's going down, we creep back around the block and park, send whistle signals and find out that we didn't miss any action. AgentCoulion watches from the back tinted windows through binoculars, sees the target emerge from his car thinking he was safe as Agent Zeb quickly dashes up behind him from across the street. Water streams over the mustang as the two circle and duck around it, each trying to take the other out.
Zeb: "I so got you."
Target One : "Yea you did."
***
The Burt Dows rose out of the deep water and murderered Agent Ohms
Agent Ohms was a slippery bastard, like an eel swimming in soybean oil. He lives on a filthy street, in a toxic neighborhood, and has surrounded himself with wicked, large-eyed women. But the Burt Dows - rugged men of the sea - cased him relentlessly. This morning -- the morning of September 11 -- we waited until the hour before dawn, then arrayed ourselves in a familiar pattern on Ohms's block, a pattern taken right from the playbook of the great Joe Gibbs: Agent Rodney Danger sat in a car listening to "weather on the ones," covered in coffee stains; Felix trying desperately to untangle his ipod headphones, and a third, myself, Agent Hoagie, quietly vomiting up an Egg McMuffin across the street. A dark figure emerged from Ohm's lovenest at 06:25am crossed the street. I wiped my mouth on my chamois sleeve and realized that it was him, though somehow healthier looking than his photo. I kept walking, suddenly re-nauseated, and signaled to Felix: "Splash the shitbird". Ohms sat on a nearby stoop, perhaps shaken by my wretched appearance. As Felix nailed him with a wet rope from his PowerSoak XXT, Ohms at first objected. I ain't me, he said. Felix hit him again, and it was over. Ohms is toast.
***
Blackout City trapped and skinned Agent Fox
The Mayors have dispatched a dirty District Attorney, Fox, from our fair city! We consulted the Building and Code Department to learn that one specific Sty Town building had elevators not up to code. Trusting our staff like we do, we rode them for two hours to see if in fact they are safe for our citzens. While doing such, lo and behold, our dirty DA crept up the stairs from a floor below to return to her lair and continue to press fradulent charges on our brothers in arms.She emerged from the stairwell gun first, tipping us off. We lit her up! The dirty Fox is no more.
Another official elected by the ex-mayors! Chalk it!!!
***
The Burt Dows exterminated BrooklynBee
The Burt Dows have scored another kill. Almost exactly Seven years to the minute after the first plane hit the towers, we waxed BrooklynBee.Still drunk on the death of Ohms, just over two hours later, Agents Hoagie and Rodney Danger of the Burt Dows doused BrooklynBee in a torrential crossfire. In Bee's defense, he was too hungover to see beyond his hands, and had walked onto the street unarmed, with what I hope was shaving cream smeared across his chin eye boogers crusted around his eyelids. He took the fire like a man, despite all the Hennessey he'd consumed the night before. Godspeed, Bee. Here's to swimmin with bowlegged women.
[and BrooklynBee's version of the same event]
My update: Third night (first day, Sunday was a no kill day) out on my assignment my mark has nothing to show! She is like a ninja bear hibernating. And know this, as I sit (after my nightly hunt of MY "ghost I never go out" mark) I am the super defend me ninja counter-assassin lookin' for ninjas coming to get me. I am the bad-ass double barrel wet wearing 'n waiting assassin, sitting on my stoop, guns of super water wetness waiting so to please my need to WET!.Pass this message along to my current assassin! AND PLEASE BLOG POST TO EMBARRASS "You are a sissy ass" I just ashed in my own beer for strength and I am still drinking it! What does that tell you? That tells you I have no care about blasting your sissy face wet!" And if you're NOT up for the task you must be a loud ass samurai with no sword! All talk! That is code word for sissy! You are NOT a ninja!
Beyond that...Supreme Commander, respectively, you need to assign a new assassin if samurai sissy cannot do the job, they TOO will get wet! I implore you this time around to assign a TEAM! I assure you they will all get wet! I am a street ghost! And I roll double fisted with double blasted wet gunz! Think NAZ "Hip Hop Is Dead" You dead! Listen....WORD!
Respectively…Supreme Commander and company and ALL organizers…MAD ninja respect for you all!
Brooklyn(assassin)Bee
PS…I roll like a water slide with pistolas on both sides! FAK THAT ya heard!
---
My assassin got hit this morning and a team came and HIT ME! FUCK! One was a buddy of yours, I forget his name. You should post these two emails! apparently it is me who is the weak ass ninja. SHIT SHIT SHIT! I was all hungover from stoop drinking! And what makes it worse, unarmed! I'll send you the details later! I'm fucking out! FAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
***
Vacquero killed the Precipitator : Storytime
precipitator a long name, but a swift death soon i will hunt m --vaqueroI took a walk around the Precipitator's neighborhood, selecting a convenient observation post with a view of his front door. Fortune smiled; before long I saw his attractive lady friend coming up the block. She was on her cell, and clearly casing the area. She looked in my direction, but didn't seem too bothered by my presence. She walked up her stoop, checking both sides for any hidden assailant. You won't find me there, lovely. And then she went inside, with one last look around.
I couldn't be sure if she had seen me, so it was time to change location. I stepped out of my post and began walking. Suddenly my target rounds the corner, talking on his cell phone and looking spooked. I stroll along the other side of the street, empty-handed, invisible. He steps inside his gate. I duck behind a van, pull a balloon, and close the distance as he climbs his steps. "Thatcher!" I shout. He wheels around and goes for his gun, but the balloon is already in the air. It bursts on his doormat, splattering him only inches away from the safety of home.The love of a good woman may keep you warm at night, but it won't save you from me.
***
El Matador smoked Killer Greene Team
Upon receiving "the package" from the Shadow Government, it was pleasing to see that this mision would have not one, but three victims, the members of team Killer Greene. A reconnaissance mission was embarked upon inmediatamente to identify the targets' homes and their places of work. The locations were all canvassed, photographed and committed to memoria. Every corner, alley, vagrant, and crack-whore was identified and inventoried, making the likelihood of an unforeseen escape unlikely.The workplace of Mr. Greene, el capitan of Killer Greene was infiltrated on Tuesday night, but he was nowhere to be seen. Apparently some erroneous intelligence had been obtained. The night was not a complete failure however as Mr. Greene "moonlights" as a panini purveyor of Plutonian proportions. The spicey tuna with oven roasted tomates was delish!
Wednesday night saw an incursion into Killer Greene's hipster downtown Brooklyn barrio. After a lengthy stakeout and no sign of the marks, hope was nearly lost. However, there would be no going quietly into the good night. Like a Horseman of the Apocalypse, Mr. Greene's associate Mr. Pink strode into the crosshairs of El Matador's sidearm. The weapon's stream of muerte aquatica was not sufficient to relieve Mr. Pink of his mortal coil and he hastily retreated on his steed, fortuitously dodging volley after volley of water-grenades. The night's excitement would peak there, but the thrill of the hunt had sparked and insatiable bloodlust that demanded it be seen to fruition.
This morning, a second incursion was made into Brooklyn. A covert unit was stationed just outside the target's home with inteligencia buena indicating that Mr. Greene would be leaving at an appointed time. Lo, the time was nigh. An obviously on-edge Mr. Greene exited his home, eyes darting to and fro, searching for the most minimal sign of danger, water balloon and gun in hand. Ignorance being bliss, he was blind to the imminence of his demise and had sealed the fate of team Killer Greene. As Mr. Greene made his way up his block, agent El Matador swept upon him like the Angel of Death. Mr. Greene attempted an escape, but it was all for naught. He tossed a well-aimed balloon, but El Matador would not be denied and the projectile was avoided with Baryshnikovian elegance. A righteous saturation unlike any witnessed heretofore was unleashed upon the victim. Time of death: 11:15am.
The humiliation of defeat still entrenched in his visage, Mr. Green had little recourse but to hand over his ID. "I didn't want to stop playing yet." Sorry hijo, death is no game. A quick dap and man-hug later, it was off to search for the next mark. Ole!
Yours in acrimony ... El Matador
***
Iceman melted all over Agent Elrian's face
Murder Death Kill.Elrian is dead. Killcode: VKcoJ7fkEL7SyNMIT
Much like my johnson, this hunt was long and hard.
DAY 1 began in the shadows of astoria in front of an unmarked warehouse. Quickly realizing the location was not residential, the target was contacted and his proper address was distilled. The residence was heavily fortified with no roof access.DAY 2 An aerial assault was attempted but thwarted. The next day the building was infiltrated and entry into residence was attempted. Mark was overheard whispering to roommate to get the door as assassins were after him. Thwarted again.
DAY 3 Mark was contacted by unnafiliated mercenary to arrange a lunch meeting. Did not take the bait.
DAY 4 Stakeout of work location. Mark was very sneaky and did not take the most logical path to work. Was determined that this was going to take time. Binoculars were purchased and the stakeout of single-exit office building began in earnest. 3 false alarms, two blunts, 1 rail, and a chicken biscuit sandwich later the mark was spotted exiting the building. Tracked around the block and as soon as feet hit unsafe pavement an aerial assault was launched and target was eliminated.
Have tasted blood. Thirst is unquenchable.
***
Globix Jumps into the killin lead with #3 - Gold E Locks of WHOA-men
Shadow Government: I wish I could clone myself, give that clone a water gun and try to hunt and kill it; because that is the only way I'm going to get a real challenge in this game!FlipDog here again to report the timely demise of one Gold E Lox of team The WHOA-Men. I would like to say it was interesting, frustrating, sexy, or any number of adjectives but in fact it was quick and dull. The only thing that will keep me going is the fact that her teammate is now all alone and living in fear of the wetting moment....Don't worry "Bad Mamma Jamma" your time will come soon!
As for Gold E Lox, I was already in her neighborhood....after checking with her doorman that she was indeed not home yet, I walked a few stoops down the block and sat and waited. About 5 min later she comes walking down the street oblivious to my presence, I wait untill she is directly in front of me and shot her ass! She of course did not have her ID card, but promised to give it to me when she got it.
FlipDog
The Globix Corporation
***
Le Phenix has finally risen from the ashes and scalded Agent 008
supreme-i have soaked my first victim and the taste of victory is SWEET! Agent 008 went down tonight at 8:31.
since it was rush hour, i followed a group of people from the train and slid into the building behind another resident. i snuck into the building on one other occasion so i already had my perfect hiding place. i listened for any movement below, but no one was home at his place...perfect, just as i had hoped--all i had to do was wait. unfortunately, when i heard a key in the lock to his apartment i got trigger happy and fired a small, but powerful stream of water at my victim. to my dismay it was not agent 008 but his wife! i hightailed it up the stairs and into a recessed doorway, but his wife pursued and interrogated me. i asked outright if she was going to call him--figuring that my cover had been blown to smithereens. rather than giving up, i made as if to leave and went to the other stairwell at the far end of the hallway. luckily for me agent 008 stepped out of the elevator with his mamma while i continued to lurk. i pretended to be going down the stairs, grabbed my weapon, turned and fired--a clean shot right to the middle of the chest. i crowed with glee and agent 008 cried to his mamma!
next assignment please
le phenix
***
NYC 2008
Decisions, Decisions... - Now With Sexy New Formatting!!!
September 10, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 2:01 PM
Before I get into my daily musings, I will ask a question of you, assassins.
Agent Shuki, of the last pissing me off posting has contacted me and asked for forgiveness.
As I am a sociopath and have no emotion, I turn to you my assassins...should I reach deep down into my cold, black heart and forgive? Or should justice be swift, immutable and with no mercy?
Debate this in the comments.
As of this weekend, I will be canceling my afternoon harem pleasuring sessions and will be devoting that time to counting kills. Starting Saturday you will know the exact kill counts of all players and the total kill count.
Now, I leave you with some kill stories...I have to go knock the teeth out of some underage Thai boys to make them ready for oral servicing. My work never ends...sigh...
Frankie the Hipster Slayer made a snuff film featuring Agent Little My
I am writing to report the package that was delivered to my very doorstep and then murdered, return address one Frankie the Hipster Slayer. Agent "Little My" had her stamps canceled at approximately 5:42 PM. Mere hours after the receipt of my target package, intelligence revealed a possible weakness. A message was sent to target. Follows:"Hi there Lucia. My name is Frank and I am a model at SVA. I have worked in some photog classes, most recently for Thom Kletecka, but I mostly model for the drawing classes (Steve Gaffney,Judy Mannarino etc.) I also model at FIT, however I have found that SVA students' work is a bit superior which is basically why I am contacting you as you fit that stereotype, so don't be weirded out please ;). Here's the deal. I am also an actor, sort of...meaning I do long-form improv comedy at the REDACTED but I am starting to branch out into commercial and possibly film and hopefully more lucrative arenas. I am going to need headshots, but I want them to be really cool and artistic, not just typical "Hey this is me in the Meatpacking District looking at the camera knowingly with just the barest hint of a smile" generic crap. I want something that is going to actually make a casting agent pause on my picture because it is original. I know you're really not supposed to do that in the "biz" but that's just my style.
So, I saw your profile, and your pictures actually made me want to click on them to see larger than thumbnail sized versions, which has barely happened in the 2 hours I've spent trawling through these websites. But the totally random thing is that you had pictures of someone on train tracks, and I kind of had the idea of a shoot location on these train tracks near where I live (it's called Ridgewood, not NJ but Queens. You've never heard of it but it's only about REDACTED mins from the city via the @ train.) They are not subway tracks but barely used freight lines so safe to shoot on. I am willing to pay if you can do touch up work and photoshoppy things, and of course you can use it in your portfolio if you should want. However, my budget is a bit tight obviously which is why I am looking on sites like STU'ART and --god help me--Craigslist. If you are not into the idea of traveling out of the city into Queens, perhaps you have some other ideas? Well, now I am being presumptuous as to your interest,but, if you would be interested, please give me a call at (YOUR MOM's # HERE FOOLS) anytime and perhaps we can discuss details. If not, thanks for your time reading this run-on e-mail and any other leads would be sorely appreciated.
Sincerely,
Frank"The target, as expected e-mailed me back the very next day. Follows:
Hi Frank,
Thanks for your interest! I would love to do your headshots, and randomly enough I too live in Ridgewood. I just called you but no answer so I figured I'd send an email too. I can definitely do photoshoppy touch up work as you put it and am available at various times through the week. Personally I prefer evening light (you know, so called "magic hour") so i hope that works for you. Unfortunately the train tracks in my portfolio are in Paris so we can't shoot on them, but if you know how to get to these freight lines it sounds good to me. Please give me a call asap to talk details etc (RED)-ACTED
Talk to you soon,
-LuciaShe had clearly lost her natural protective instinct of fear. Elimination from the gene pool would be imminent and pertinent.
Random that I live in Ridgewood indeed. Even more random that I lived literally around the corner from her. It would have been easy to walk around the block to kill her, but that would leave me exposed and also would mean I wasn't lazy.
After an exchange of schedule information a meeting time was arranged. I watched as the target walked right to the door of my stronghold. Knock, knock. Who's there?
***
Globix Killed sunk the ship of Captain Capinurass
HOT GIRL ON GIRL ACTION ENDS IN SOAKINGThis is the first lady of team Globix, the Mistress Medusa Martin reporting our latest (and SECOND) slaughtering. SO called assassins, be warned, we are murdering faster than you can find your trigger finger.
Captin Capinurass lay bathed in my soaking wet and glorious wrath as of approximately 10:40 PM this Tuesday evening. This kill was not as pathetic as our first kill, yet the challenge has yet to be witnessed. The story of the hunt begins with Brock and Parkour stalking her yesterday. They were disgruntled by the fact that nobody seemed to live in this apartment. I continued the hunt this afternoon at her law firm, watching from the street and attempting to blend in with the blonds in business suits and pumps. After one hour, Brock and Parkour joined me. I found out from the Starbucks employee that she takes her grande lattes with skim only. USELESS information. It was time for real action. Parkour called her office, posed as a friend of hers, and found from her secretary she was not in. Suspicious as we are, we decided to ensure the target had actually left the premises before relocating. In order to do this I charmed the front desk rent a cop into allowing me into the business itself. I fed the next security guard the story that I was her friend from the University of Virginia and wanted to surprise her with a visit. Him blinded by my sweetness, he offered me her hours of entry and generously showed me a much more accurate photograph of her, kept in the law firm's database of course. He also ensured me that she had, in fact, left the building.
Parkour, Brock and I headed to her home to wait. and wait. talk to her neighbors. and wait some more. I gained entry to her building to leave her a friendly reminder that we were lusting to see her wet. As I left her building I felt my back get wet. I couldn't understand how she got me! As I turned I saw that it was in fact boys who shot me! They thought I was their target! SIlly boys, they thought the game was called OOPSIE, WE"RE RETARDED. Hey boys, its called assassin. And so, Brock and I continued to wait. and wait. we got into her building again, propped the door open and waited.When i saw a small blond girl running for dear life for the door I stepped forward and "popped a cap in her ass" to use her own poorly chosen and pussy moniker. She was doused in my wrath, my glorious fluids, and then turned to stone by my patience and precision. This is only the beginning of the end my friends.NOTE: this is our second victim who did not even own a gun. I mean, are you people for real?
xoxoxo
MEDUSA
***
The Battle Royale All-Stars 86'ed Agent #9
The Battle Royal Allstars would like to report our first kill. After hours of reconaisance, agent Number Nine was eliminated. The hit was the result of stellar inside intel and extreme patience. Being crew for a popular tv series, our mark was held up in a well lit studio stage with ample security but only one exit. Our man inside clued us to our mark's schudule. During our stakeout the team had the cops called on us, but some quick thinking (some "info" about a guy we saw bust out a car window) quickly sent them the other way. Upon his exit from the building Number Nine met three streams of fire as well as a well placed grenade. All in all he proved a valient opponent who forced us to use a considerable amount of resources. We look forward to our next assignment. BRA Kill Code: kFQhPokWcX1gE8jc
***
Scottie and Clyde aquatically raped the face of Agent Grant
Agent Grant: Confused till the end. ID: 797 Killcode: Bvwioxyh57hRKffJImagine the original Godfather film as a Shakesperean comedy of errors. This was our most recent assasignation.
Resulting from an email thread (see attached) that could only be described as incestuous, Sun Tzu-esque, and Machivellian, we ( Scottie and I) were able to lure our hapless and hopeless target to fantastical frappucino date at a Union Square location Starbucks. Being professional 'hashashins' we precalculated every situation and scenario. Our mark entered the Bucks, the Yang to my Ying was posted at an out of the way table, but her gun malfunctioned (!). She texted me, Emergency!! and I came in the back door, stopping at the bathroom to load my weapon, Al Pacino style, and strolled up to the target, pulling out my gun from a FedEx box to deliver the killing blow. Agent Grant almost seemed happy to be killed. WTF. He revealed to us that he had called HIS target from his cell phone. WTF.
Total newbness.
First kill - James Bond
Second Kill - GodfatherWhich film for Kill 3? Mission Impossible? JFK? Bourne Conspiracy? Layer Cake? Harriet the Spy? Get Smart? Come on...
***
The Mangler deported the Gringo Assassin
As I told you earlier, the plan was a restaurant stake out....wait for him to leave work and make my move. But on my way there, my secret agent (props!) notified me that he was at a neighborhood bar. Made my way there. Hung with Gringo until 4am...chewing the fat on different attack/defense techniques...threw back some Miller High Life....offered him my umbrella for defense...made sure he was filling up his gun regularly, since it was leaking...and in a moment of pure chivalry, Gringo Assasin offered to walk me to my car to protect me...with his VERY large Super Soaker......once we got to my car, Gringo got shot in the back with my very mini bra-stashed-pistol. Never trust a big butt and a smile.
***
Mors Mortis has officially changed Allkindsoftime name to Outoftime.
Waiting for him this morning near his apartment with my coffee and whiskey, I had spotted a runner fleeing from his building wearing a winter cap. Beginning to feel the thrill of the offing this mark, I was momentarily brought to earth when the po-po came to my position. A quick bribe of hookers and good cigars (I believe that a member of the shadow government can vouch for the quality here!!) had them agreeing that this would-be assassin needed two in the back of the head.Re-taking my position, I waited and saw my mark sprint from an opposite corner back into his building sans winter cap. I had made his ass and was ready. Not more than 10 minutes later does he come out wearing the same running gear and not even looking around. I follow him a few blocks call out his name as I am putting three in his back.
Went back to his place and coughed up the card.
Nothing is better with your coffee then whiskey and death.
***
Like little bitches, the Lone Rangers asked Agent Blue for his card and DQ'ed him.
Pussies.
Supreme Commander, Agent Blue has been terminated by way of disqualification. It was not a liquid death like the way we had imagined, but an extermination nonetheless. Guy Johnson approached Agent Blue at 12:15pm (or so) today while he was smoking outside his office building and asked him to produce his ID card. Agent Blue failed to do so. Per the Rule Book. we believe this means the Lone Rangers have made their first kill. Please confirm and let us know how we obtain information on our next mark.In umbra, igitur, pugnabimus,
Artic Shade
***
Killer Green Team packed and smoked some Pink Old Lady
> She should not have been playing this game in the first > place. She lied about her company being in the same > apartment as her residence. She gave a deceiving body shot. > Most of all she was not prepared for the caliber of Killer > Greene Team. All we had to do after we found out she works > in Manhattan every day and is a "big boned" woman, > so you know she needs to leave to eat at some point, was > wait outside her residence for her this morning. No problem > spotting her as I had dozens of photos of her in that same > white long-sleeve shirt off Flickr. After she walked by on > what she thought was a normal looking street we were right > there behind her, each side of the street covered. As soon > as she turned the corner I caller her cell and closed the > distance to the corner. As I casually walked right behind > her she went to pick up her "ever so important" > phone call which just confirmed our target and increasingly > made Pinkoldlady distracted..... I closed the > last 5 feet low and quiet and quickly double-tapper her > for the kill. She fired a retort after my kill, amusing. > Time of death; 7:58am. > > Please give Killer Greene Team her target info as she > claimed to have lost her file the night before and > didn't know shit about him. I don't think she had > done a thing yet. We are eager to get back in the game. > > ~Diamond Joe Quimby
***
DarkKnightG1 put Agent Chubbs on a liquid diet
Shadow Government, I have made my first kill, his name Agent Chubbs, his kill code is "1N1yVGr6kUKmhh_g" When and how will I receive my next assignment? The story of my first kill is as follows: This was my first time playing and my first target and the adrenalin was pumping. I did the research on my target, verified his work information and most importantly his myspace. Staked out his job during my own lunch break, but nothing came of it. It's like winning the lottery in the city if you can catch someone at the precise time of their lunch break. I decided to go to his home, called his job and confirmed work hours and thought since I leave at the same time I could beat him home. I arrived at his home, an apartment building. I got in so easy that it was creepy, thinkting o myself "what would happen if this was more that just a game?". I reached the 5th floor and saw the apartment number with a doormat with "Leave" written on it. I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. I had a concealed point of view from the top of the stairs leading up to the next floor. I waited. I waited some more. I heard his door open abruptly and shut. I thought I was spotted I thought tonight was wasted. As I was deciding what to do next I saw someone headed to the apartment. I chanced it and and ran down the stairs, all the while this guy kept looking at me awkwardly. He stopped and the targets apartment I stopped right next to the door. He just stared at me and he did not knock on the targets door. I looked him straight in the face and said "I'm here to see Jason" his body language relaxed he even let out a sigh of relief. He knocked on the targets door and as it opened I stepped out in front and pulled the trigger. One target down and oh so many more to go. I am officially addicted.
***
NYC 2008
Lessons to be Learned
September 9, 2008 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 8:03 PM
I want all of you to pay very close attention to this posting...there will be certain lessons taught and examples made that you would do yourself a service if you paid attention to.
Just the other day, I received the following email:
Mister Mustache – Can I ask you ever-so politely to get your commander shit together.We are a team of specially-trained agents operating in exact measurements and precise movements. The only point of failure to the success of our mission is faulty information from yours truly. So please, tighten it up.
Best,
Agent Shuki
Now, a bit of history...
Years ago, I set on a mission to climb to the top of all the mountains in the Himalayas by myself and with nothing more than the clothes on my back and a small butterfly knife. At one point during my climbings, there was a violent blizzard - fucking snow and crap everywhere, it got so damn bad that I had to find some sort of shelter...imagine my surprise when, out there in the middle of nowhere, I saw a plume of smoke rise from one of the valleys near me. I made my way towards that smoke, in the hopes of finding some shelter.
As I slowly made my way closer to the source of the smoke, I saw a small hut and in front of it was the man you know as Mustache Commander, wearing only a loin-cloth and greased up with olive oil, wrestling with a Polar Bear. I could tell that, although he was holding his own, eventually the bear would have gotten the best of him.
I jumped into the fray and together Mustache and I kicked the shit out of that douchebag bear. Like seriously, I straight-up throat stomped that motherfucker...took his gold chains too.
Ever since that day, Mustache and I are as one. You insult him, you insult me. I fight, he fights. Heck, we even share our concubines.
Agent Shuki of Team Mossad insulted Mustache. Which is like insulting me. Which means he insulted both of us.
THIS WILL NOT STAND.
I will