SF2007
Acta Est Fabula.
February 12, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 10:02 PM
And so it ends...
I'll keep this short. I'm dead.
Here (thanks to NightThrasher's command over the English language and non-laziness) is how it happened:
It wasn't easy, but I did it. Down to the last 2 this time last week, Agent Mildred and I took turns to hunt each other for alternating 24-hour periods. Neither of us were able to liquidate the other, though there were some close calls.
On Saturday The Supreme Commander rolled into town to sort the shit out. And sort it out he did (although there was plenty of shit to sort and it was a messy job and there was actually more shit heaped on the other unsorted shit during the shit-sorting process.) We had to hunt the Supreme Commander. Whoever got him first would win. The race was on.
The SC let us know he was planning a shopping trip to the Westfield Mall in Downtown San Francisco. I expect he was in the market for a new velour tracksuit and perhaps something lacy for Mustache. The place was teeming with operatives. I had 6 dogged spotters on the ground and Mildred had dozens. My trusty and observant sidekick, Agent Release The Hounds eventually found Supreme with a couple of bully-boys waltzing through Nordstroms. RTH immediately called me with the special concise cryptic phrase we had devised for this exact situation, containing encoded identification and location references.
"Holy shit dude, fuck I think I've found him, aah, aah, in Nordstroms, next to the fucking whatyamacallit, the door"
"Are you sure it's him?", I replied, as I began a heart-racing dash through the mall.
"Well I dunno, but there's a guy here with a full length fur coat, slicked-back hair, aviator sunglasses, commando pants and two motherfuckingly nasty bovver-boys and he's walking around like he's the Queen of Sheba, oh, and he kinda smells of onions."
"Onions. That's him. NightThrasher inbound. Over."
Alas when I caught sight of the evil threesome it was just in time to see them enter the elevator up to Nordstroms. A brilliantly cunning move, and easier on the thighs than the stairs.
"Shit!" I said. "Fuck."
"Fuck" reverse-echoed Release The Hounds. "And Shit!"
I put out an APB to all my nefarious assistants the old-fashioned way. I yelled at them across the atrium.
"Everyone to Nordstroms, take different floors, I'll be in lingerie on 6."
I'm not quite sure when the numerous security guards in the mall cottoned to our presence, but it may have been at that moment.
Supreme Commander claims he saw me pounding my fists in frustration as he hid camouflaged, in a rack of women's fur coats, while I was maniacally and frantically running around the huge store. Running up the down-escalators, and down the up ones, for dramatic effect. (You can knock over more shoppers that way).
The ever-vigilant Release The Hounds found him again. This time I gave him more compelling reasons to not lose the commander, involving threats of nutsack electrocution and very large quantities of cold custard.
"Stay on him like yellow on tennis balls. Or is it green?"
Agent RTH was true to his skills, and were it not for a minor incident involving a devious henchman, a body check, a mad diarrhea-dash from SC, and afore-mentioned henchman falling into and knocking over a makeup display, and the Nordstrom security, and the eviction of RTH, and the police being called... then I'm sure he would NOT have lost SC once again. But he did. The ephemeral, ethereal and unethical SC gave team NightThrasher the slip twice in one day.
"The old Green-Apple-Splats dash to the bathroom with the trusty makeup-display trashing maneuver. Clichéd SC, but it worked. Touché."
"This fucker is good." I shouted to myself. "So that's how it's gonna be huh? Time to turn up the heat baby! Time to cook your goose motherfucker. Time to bring the Thrash."
I slowly and serenely scanned the faces of each of my unflinchingly loyal cohorts. Agent "The Comatizinatorizer" Anaesthesia, Agent "Shit-Faced" Shillelagh, Agent Release The Hounds, Agent Hockey-Stick Foreplay, and Agent This Girl Who Is My Ex-Girlfriend's Roomate.
"Let's go get some beers at that Thai place up the street." I barked.
The Supreme deigned to call me during the ensuing hiatus, while I was getting myself outside a large plate of Pad Thai and drinking ratpiss beers. In the course of our convivial conversation I learned that Supreme was of a similar gastronomical mindset but was instead sucking down a little sausage with his brew. Team NightThrasher significantly overtipped the waitress for dramatic effect, made a hurried exit and hailed a cab. I culled our numbers by two so we could all fit, and quickly pitched their bodies into a dumpster. Working on the sausage clue we made a dash to Schroeders then every Irish pub in the vicinity. Just as I was sticking my head into my fifth consecutive sausage hole I received a text stating the window was closed, and that more information would come at 8.30.
This was becoming a mental marathon. This was the lowest point in the game for me, and I nearly gave up. In fact, if it weren't for a soul-stirring, heart-warming speech, delivered by Agent Shillelagh, at that precise point, I believe I would have. Standing defiantly in the rain, and making references to Irish Heritage, The Souls of Our Fathers, and the Integrity of the Common Man, his poetic words lifted my spirit, and I was renewed once more. As a dotcom yuppie from New Zealand, I had no idea what he was talking about, but his tears and dedication moved me nonetheless.
I became a frenzy of activity. In one hour I culled my team by another two, went back to NTHQ, changed clothes, cleaned my guns, paid a few bills, walked the dog, thought about going back to college, tore back to Agent Shillelaghs place, AND found a parking spot in Hayes Valley on a rainy Saturday night. By the time Supreme's text-clue arrived we were sitting in The Shillelaghmobile, bristling with weapons, and revving the engine primed for battle.
The clue was as follows.
Next to its faux antiquity, youth and science triumphs. Arches of swans with the Lions at Bay cast a final shadow.
This was getting all Da Vinci Code and shit.
"I'm Tom Hanks Motherfucker!" I screamed. "Shillelagh, make haste to the Palace of Fine Arts and we shall kill tonight"
"And I'm not fooken Meg Ryan!" added the slightly confused Shillelagh.
Shillelagh then drove calmly and serenely to the Palace of Fine Arts, obeying every law of the road, showing courtesy to other drivers, and completely stopping at every stop sign. We made the 3 mile trip in a little under 5 minutes.
Arriving at the final arena Shillelagh slowed and I drop-rolled out of the car onto the road. I furtively entered the park. It was lashing with rain and the ground was sopping and muddy. My heart was in my mouth as I waded through the knee-deep water, all the while peering into the gloom and constantly flinching from the rain in my eyes.
Suddenly to my right I spotted the Muzzy Commander all stealthing it up behind a massive Corinthian pillar. He saw me too and pulled a diminutive piece from his robe.
"What you gonna do motherfucker?" Queried MC.
Note that super-soakers have a safety valve on them, which open and release when the pressure builds up to a dangerous level. The safety valve on my weapon was securely glued shut with epoxy resin. I could pump this gun up so much it would start to creak in protest. It was quite scary to hold, but it gave me a couple more feet.
"This." I replied, and unleashed a mighty torrent on the MC from an unfeasible range.
"Oh." he replied.
On through the wind and rain and dark I went. I made for the main Cupola. It seemed to me that a man with Supreme's flamboyance would be nowhere else. Peering around a huge stone column I looked into the cavernous space. There he was, in all his glory. Standing, floodlit, arms raised, imploring the very gods themselves, in the center of the mighty dome. He seemed 8 feet tall and invincible and I did shake in my boots at his visage. The image of the mighty paragon, in his purple suit and fur coat, will be forever burned in my mind.
He had a lone guard, but I guessed there would be more miscreants lurking in the shadows.
I reached down deep into the barren cupboard of my soul for the courage that was then required of me. I fossicked around in the refrigerator of valour, and looked between the cushions on the sofa of daring. I even tipped out the contents of the drawer of spunk, in the nightstand of temerity where I chuck any spare grit and fortitude, and my keys, when I get home from boozing. I would need every last ounce of audacity to attack this apotheosis of humanity.
I managed to scrounge up enough bravery, which allowed me to temporarily abate the terror-shakes and initiate an attack.
Cue slow-motion sequence.
I ran at him and his defender, letting out a great ancestral war cry which shook the walls of the mighty edifice. I launched a wayward bomb and he did respond in kind. I leapt over the exploding ordinance, remaining dry, and continued towards my quarry. The guard then fired a watery stream in my direction, the avoidance of which required immediate and hurried lateral movement. Again I was still dry. At this point SC hit the change-tactic button and ran screaming from the Palace. I made after him like a guy who's just spent 4 weeks of his fucking life in total obsessive paranoia about a water-pistol game that took over his life and really wants to win and now if he runs fast enough he can and it will be over. That's pretty fast. Supreme's fur coat began to loom closer in the night as I closed the distance between us. When within range of my customized not-safe-for-children-nor-adults water pistol, one of NightThrasher's fingers moved in the moonlight.
And StreetWars SF 2007 was ended.
At his death knell Agents appeared out of the stonework, and somewhere in the dark and stormy night, in the great city of San Francisco, 8 swarthy assassins stood huddled under a great copper dome, and did drink a toast to fear.
SF2007
Hunt the best to be the best
February 10, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 06:07 AM
Sitting with a bottle of jack and a bucket of some of SF's finest fried chicken, we relax in one of our Shadow Government agent's penthouse suites, I toasted Supreme's arrival and we marveled at the San Francisco night sky.
"Mustache, you have a good city here, and your women are as fine as you say, but this rain shit sucks ass." He spits on the bear skin rug by the fireplace.
"It's all good old friend, all the better to wet some fuckers with."
We nod in agreement.
NT and Mildred. Here is your chance to take out the best to have a chance to be the winner.
Our first of many announced appearances will be at the Westfield Mall Saturday at 4pm. The whole mall including the adjoining shopping centre is safe. Alll existing safe zones also apply..
We will blog and text you our next appearances as the day progress. We don't want you skipping ahead now, do we :)
SF2007
Son of A Fuck
February 9, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 04:38 AM
Game Status Update...
Players Remaining: 2
Current Kill Leaders: NightThrasher (7) and Zeno (7)
Do any of you have any inkling of how much of a pain in the fucking ass it is to have to surface your submarine in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and try to find a wireless signal? Well, trust me, it ain't easy...but I did it because I love (most) of you kids so much and I wanted to give you an update on the state of things...
Still no one dead.
You fucks are disappointing...if you can't kill one of your own, someone with low skills, how do you expect to kill me?
I'll either have to make it easy for you...or I'll just kill you both myself and keep the trohpy and cash for myself...not that I need it - I have plenty of awards already...but I kinda feel like I should bitch-slap your egos for disappointing me.
Also, I don't really approve of the doucherry, lies and complaining that's been going down. It makes my stomach turn. We're all about bending rules and walking the line on what is appropriate, but to try to douche yourself into a win is quite low class and y'all know I don't roll like that...
Thankfully, with my arrival I bring with me a "level" playing field and a disgust for fuckerring, so it should be a bit more awesome then the low level tactics and bitching that you cats have exhibited thus far.
As the first StreetWars that has whittled down the field to two players, I expected more from you. Though what should I have expected from bottom of the barrel "assassins" (it's in quotation marks cuz I have disdain for your skills!).
My phallic golden submarine will be surfacing near Fisherman's Wharf tonight at midnight. Soon as I arrive there I can be killed...and I can kill.
Should neither of you be able to find and kill me then, I will send or post a detailed schedule of my movements on Saturday.
Someone is gonna die. Someone is gonna win.
...and we're all gonna get trashed on Sunday at the wrap party.
SF2007
...And Then There Were Two
February 6, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 05:06 AM
Game Status Update...
Players Remaining: 2
Current Kill Leaders: NightThrasher (7) and Zeno (7)
This past weekend I went back to visit one of my many teachers of skillifications, Toshitsugu Takamatsu, in his dojo on the snow capped peaks of Mount Hiei. My plans was to leave all the booze and sex and gold and falconeering and assorted luxury of my daily life and go into hardcore ninja training mode for a few days in preparation for Sudden Death.
So, I'm in Japan, missing the drink and hourly semen drainage I'm generally used to (don't worry about the excess man-juice, I took a moment's detour and stopped into one of them fancy Sex Hotels to relieve myself - I strongly suggest you go sometime if yer backed up...the Japanese are into some crazy shit), I trek up the fucking mountain in the cold, get to the doors, have to wait like 3 hours for those fucks to open up ('cause they had a new doorman and that cockfuck didn't recognize me, thought I was a regular chump begging for an audience), had to kill the chump what disrespected me by not opening the doors sooner...finally I'm chillin' with my homey TT, drinking some tea, about to get down to some bidness, when I get an urgent call from Mustache telling me that we got ourselves a ThunderDome situation.
Fuck, Yeah! This shit is gonna be like Thunderdome with water.
Word up. We have only two players left - Mildred (3) and NightThrasher (7). I'm postponing the start of Sudden Death for a few days and those two are now hunting each other in shifts. Perhaps this will be the first StreetWars tournament to end without a Sudden Death. Perhaps...
The two remaining assassins have until Friday, midnight to kill each other. I'm getting on my golden submarine, the Leif Ericson (designed and built by yours truly (or stolen from the US government, or given to him as a gift from the mafia, depending on whom you listen to)), presently, and will be heading to SF from Japan...when I arrive, you fools will have squandered your opportunity to make StreetWars history and Sudden Death will be on.
Keep in mind that when I arrive I will be extremely cranky, killy and full of cum, as I had to do all this needless travelling and you toolboxes wasted a prime opportunity. If you make me have to demonstrate my skills, I will likely kill you with copious amounts of water, possibly bukkake you and award myself the trophy for "Last Assassin Standing".
Don't make me have to cum on you...
Get to killin'
no kill stories today, but I'll give you something sexy tomorrow
SF2007
NightThrasher threatens to take over
February 3, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 03:56 PM
Game status update
Players remaining : 5
Kill leader: NightThrasher (7) and Agent Zeno (7)
Yes, NightThrasher (7) makes another kill tying Agent Zeno for the lead. Thirty two hours left to make his next kill. Can he do it?
The rogues are on the loose.
With so few days and so few players remaining, the Government has turned up the heat and released a few top notch Rogues into the field. Redeye and Rawdawg, winners of SF2005, proofs their pedigree once more and takes out Agent HuffnPuff (2). No shame in losing to one of the best HuffnPuff!
PS: Read NightThrasher's kill story today, the addendum is amusing and something me thinks most of us can relate to.
Tomorrow:
In today's update:
- NightThrasher (7) finds nothing sacred in HolyKrow (2*)
- Rogues, RedEye & RawDawg, blew HuffnPuff's (2) house down.
- Mildred (3) gave Judith Butler the kiss of his life.
- Dr Monkey (4) exited stage left after proving himself a very stealthy assain for my rogues.
Full story after the jump
Your daily kill stories
NightThrasher (7) finds nothing sacred in HolyKrow (2*)
NightThrasher Kills
I knew I had to do this one quickly, as my Thrashy senses told me forces were aligning against me. So I did. I learned that my quarry worked at the Presidio pool, and my state-of-the-art Windows NT machine told me this opened at 5.45am, which is about midday for me... Fortunately HolyKrow's residence leaks like the old rusty sieve I use for target practice, so serendipity was not required for access. Just a bit of jiggling. I guessed The Krow was on the early shift, and would return between midday and 2. He did, conveniently at 12.30, on my lunch break, and thence I did wet him.Addendum:
On my way back to NTHQ I stopped at an ATM to replenish my dangerously depleted carousing funds. After completing the transaction, and slinking away, I heard a guy yelling my real name (which by now we all know is 'Siegfried'). Like a cougar (the cat kind, not the 30-something spinsters at The Royal Oak) I instantly set off at breakneck pace. But the stranger did pursue me vigorously, and he was moving faster than the donuts at a police convention. After two blocks I changed tactic and drop-rolled into a doorway, letting him have it with both weapons blazing. I shouted 'You'll never take me dry KMan!! Drown in Hell!!'. After wiping his glistening face, looking very puzzled and wet, he said 'Errr... you left your ATM card in the machine' and verily he did hand it to me. 'Oh...' said NightThrasher, 'Thanks!'
Judith Butler's death tale, in his own words
Last night, I foiled an attempt by my assassin with a firm blast to his unsuspecting head, discovering in the process that a friend and coworker was sleeping with him and had completely sold me out schedule and all. Since my assassin was a good sport and admitted that I squirted him first, I told him to forget the 24-hour safety rule. This overconfidence turned out to be my downfall: this morning, when I should have been completely safe, his lover/my coworker was driving him somewhere past where I was walking, randomly having changed my plans for the day to get a nice vegan brunch at Boogaloo's with friends, and he wasted me. That we crossed paths for the second time in history at such a random juncture was preposterous, and had I not overriden the 24-hour rule out of a sense of good sportsmanship and fun and, I admit, confidence in my awesome skills, I would have won the tourney and then come gunning for y'all.
But I'm gone, so thanks, it's been fun. I learned a lot, was able to use my superhuman assassin abilities for a practical purpose, and met some great people, who will respect and fear me forever.
Next year, my goal is ten (10) kills. After seeing some video action I'll send shortly and hearing unexaggerated tales of horror from my targets, you'll probably want to upgrade my status next time around; Supreme Assassin, perhaps. If not, I'll be happy to go gunnin' under the humble guise I did this first time, except to the max.
Looking forward to seeing you guys AND GIRLS come back soon.
For now, I'll graciously retreat into the shadows...
SF2007
Even the mighty can fall
February 1, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 09:39 PM
Game status update
Players remaining : 9
Kill leader: Agent Zeno (7)
With great pride and respect, I announce the death of our kill leader, Agent Zeno (7). As is only proper, such a fine and skilled assassin was finally retired by our next best assassin, Night Thrasher (6).
Seven kills is no small feat, tying last year's SF kill leader, Sandra D'Angelo. Our all time leader in the category of solo kills is Robert Gribbins in London with nine.
NIghtThrasher, it is now up to you. Can you take over Agent Zeno's lead? Can you trump even the great Robert Gribbins?
Normally, we keep the kill stories after the jump, but in hopes of inspiring the remaining assassins, I will put NightThrasher's story here in the spot light for all to enjoy:
Night Thrasher (6) finally retires Agent Zeno (7)
Hot damn! It will be a cold day in Hades before anyone who walks this earth makes The Thrasher go to such lengths. My balaclava is off to Zeno, he knows his stealth. In the last week I have spent 5 freezing predawn hours lying under a rusty van amongst trash, detritus, and rat droppings, waiting and waiting. I have dressed in full official bike messenger regalia and covered innumerable miles of SF city streets, waiting and waiting. I have pursued, I have researched, I have divined and I have augured. I have donned formal business attire and I have waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. This man has taken from me countless hours of my life. Hours spent staring, entranced, meditative, envisioning the kill... (and occasionally wondering if I left the iron on).
Today it was realised. The Great Zeno (7) has fallen.
Don't forget this sunday:
In today's update:
- Agent Zeno (7) makes Kobayshi (2) his final tribute.
- Night Thrasher (6) finally retires Agent Zeno (7)
- Agent Nashor (3) falls sadly to an unnamed assassin
- One kill under review.
Full story after the jump
Your daily kill stories
Agent Zeno (7) makes Kobayshi (2) his final tribute.
It sure as hell has been long enough since I last wrote one of these here emails. Between the celebratory whiskey and the fog of time, The Bookie's going to end up docking me literacy points.
Should I even begin to chronicle the pain that Mark 7 caused me? Lucky my ass. When this all is said and done and in the past, I'm going to ask that girl why she didn't report being out of town this past weekend. The marathon stakeout I endured was based on the trust inbred-in-assassins that any out-of-town excursions would be reported. I can't blame a girl for wanting a break here or there, but I could have saved myself the risk and the pain and increased my overall enjoyment by remaining indoors with my monogamous harem, as opposed to, well, I digress. In the words of my rival: "A day wasted on others is not wasted on one's self."
Seven.
This is the number of kills to which I have raised the bar.
Tonight, I must report with a certain sense of remorse that Agent K0bayashi has shat his last shit. It is a shame, Nabeshin, that you had to bring your own spree to an end. It is also a shame that your amplified curses have lost you face with your housing association. May your hypercharged spirit get its chance to defuse. Otherwise, that old lady is surely going to have your ass handed to you.
If there were one thing I felt the need to be proud of tonight, it is the successful application of an age-old trick. You see, within Target's apartment building, near his Unit's door, I found myself a little nook where the garbage chute rests. I had a wonderful view of Target's door and of the elevator which would likely bring him to the proper level, but there was one problem: if I focused my attention forward, towards his door and the lift, I would completely leave myself open to a discrete attack from behind, where the "Fire Exit" stairs rested. Certainly, under normal circumstances, no one uses these stairs, but StreetWars provide no normal circumstances.
Thanks to inspiration that must go back many generations, I found in my pocket a quarter, which I was able to balance very carefully on top of the stairwell doorknob, above the tile floor. This allowed me to keep my attention tuned towards the default entrance, but immediately alerted me to any stairwell movement.
Since tonight's full moon bestowed upon me the greatest luck, my Target did not only choose to arrive via my booby-trapped stairwell...his drunkenness forced him to waste his time and attention *picking up the dropped quarter*. In an instant, I fell upon him, both guns blazing. He did return fire, but far, far too late to change his fate.
Maybe it's the second whiskey. Maybe it's the lack of solid foods. Bring in the bottled lightning, a clean tumbler, and a corkscrew.
Seven notches on my belt, seven notches ticking away. Life is made of ever so many partings welded together.
SF2007
No Good Douche Goes Unpunished
January 31, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 05:10 AM
Game Status Update...
Players Remaining: 12
Current Kill Leader:Zeno (6)
Today was gonna be a good day. I just got rid of all the crap players (some of you may have just been unlucky, but in my book lacking luck is crappy, hence your inclusion...that said, I still love all of you long time - 'specially if yer disease free and got the XX chromosomes), the rogues have begun killing (shout out to RedEye - first kill on behalf of the rogues and the 2006 SF champion) and I was about to sit down to a bowl of Lucky Charms with Whiskey and my morning rusty trombone, when I got news that there's one more piece of leftover trash I need removed. A player with enough kills to stay in, but with dangerously high levels of douchebaggery...a cocksmoker I should have had killed way sooner....but all in good time I guess...
As for the rest of you, ones that were removed due to lack of kills rather than lies and doucherry...
You are poor excuses for assassins...seriously, it kinda makes me physically ill just thinking about you. I can feel the bile rise in the back of my throat with each letter I type writing about you and your non-exploits.
*spit*
Even that can't get the foul taste of your lack of skills out of my mouth...it's like a mixture of cheap booze and hooker-spit. Is it really so hard to find 2 people and wet them? You should be ashamed of yourselves. Entry into the world of professional assassins requires, at the minimmum, dedication, luck and skill...obviously you are missing some or all of those qualities and for that, I am disgusted by you (though I must repeat that if yer disease free and got the XX chromosomes I likely find you less disgusting - possibly doable even).
Go back to the comfort of your couch...find the nice impession of your ass and nestle in it once again, eat your Doritos and kick back and relax. Watch the action shows on TV and movies and rest easy knowing that if you were ever in that situation, you would fail, just as you did now (though probably not as bad as you would ahve otherwise, as you have experience now).
Like your parents, I am disappointed in you.
Perhaps, next time you will be more agressive and dedicated.
Sigh.
Despite my repugnance at your lack of wetting, it pains me to see you go, as I would have liked all of you to have experienced the thrill of the hunt. Alas, it is not to be...this time...
Respect to the 11 of the 12 left in the tournament. You have a week to demolish the rest of your competitors and avoid Sudden Death (which has never been done before in the history of StreetWars). Best of luck.
In today's update:
- Dr. Monkey (3) had a heavy flow day and Sizelove (0) got wet, earning his Red Wings
- Dr. Monkey (4) ate the shit out of Nun Sandwich (2), but left the bread and toppings aside.
Kill stories and crap follow.
Dr. Monkey (3) had a heavy flow day and Sizelove (0) got wet, earning his Red Wings
Shadow Government,
I have placed Greg Hernandez out of his misery. After a slow week of stalking I'm off to get fried chicken and booze.
Agent Dr. Monkey
Dr. Monkey (4) ate the shit out of Nun Sandwich (2), but left the bread and toppings aside.
Shadow Government,
This morning I found my self waking up to the early 7am morning sound of street cleaners. I quickly put on my smelly stalking clothes, which I wore all weekend, to beat my own personal midgets, The S.F.P.D. Meter Maids.
I made my move, from my front door to the car, it was all a blur. No assassins in sight just... The Meter Maid. She threw her ticket book to the ground in frustration as I waved my fist back at her. I drove around looking for parking, got the urge to kill and went to my targets apartment.
When I arrived at my targets apartment it was 7:20am. I parked 2 blocks away and hide my self in a drive way near my by. Cold and patiently waiting, the target drove in to his garage at 9am. He must be back from a hunt I thought.
9:10am, a neighbor drives in to the same garage and leaves the door open. I do a quick weapons check and run into the open garage door. The haste I make my way up to the second floor and find the targets apartment door and take a seat around a wall in the hall way.
9:30am, the targets door open, I swing around, just dodging a spray, while shooting in to the the open apartment door crack. GOT HIM!
I proudly report my 4th kill, Nun Sandwich, was made this morning at 9:30am.
The target was eliminated after only 2 1/2 hours of stalking time.
Agent Dr.Monkey.
SF2007
Oh, the horror.
January 28, 2007 - Posted by Li'l Abacus at 09:13 PM
Current status...
Total Kill Count: 49
Current kill leader: Zeno (6)
It's Sunday. The day of rest and restitution. It is also hours away from the end of week two and that means super funky mass eliminations. I will leave it up to The Commanders to publicly give you the details of how this coming week goes down and how many players will be remaining. What I will tell you is that if you do not have two kills (or special allowance), then your sorry ass is out of the game. That's what you get for sucking. And you don't get prizes for sucking. Except for The Li'l Abacus Golden Tampon Award - but I don't think I'll be giving out fifty of those. So hard to choose just one of you. It will probably go to a cracker. Because I hate white people.
In today's update
Your daily kill stories
Mildred (2) dealt a good, wet hand to Jack of Spades (0)
They say the first kill is the hardest but the second is the sweetest, thats right ....
Jack of Spades is dead.
In a hong over daze I rode the buss all the way out to SF State it was raining but I was wearing a low brimmed hat.
After consulting the map I made the short walk across the campus. I got hungry along the way so I decided to stop at the pizza shop and get a slice. While in line I met a super hot 19 year old blond girl. I turned on the assassin charm and convinced her to lead me to my targets room. She said she didn't like him any way and he should get shot. She seemed kinda disappointed when she found out I was only going to shot him with a water gun.As we were walking up to the dorms eating our pizza (looking like regular student folk) Jack came walking around the corner with a group of friends, only to receive an icy blast in the face from sparkly pink and purple water pistil. I quickly retrieved his card and went inside the dorms to finish my pizza with my nubile young coed.
Total stalk time 25min. I got a shitty slice of pizza and a date next week
with my new concubine.
Nahsor (3) made two kills in 24 hours with the wetting of Jay Likewise (0)
Dearest shadow government,
I have archived what may be the dream of many... the elusive 2 in 24. Jay Likewise was hopeless against me. Posted in front of his house, I saw someone with an older man getting ready to work on a car. Unsure if the mark was mine, I waited until he went inside and asked the man if that was indeed Jose. He said yes. Knowing that this was my chance, I went between the door and garage and waited for him to come out. Then I capped him. Sucka. whos next? I want 3 in 24.
-Agent Nahsor
Zeno (6) continues his seemingly unstopable killing spree by taking down TMP (0)
After the circumstances surrounding Mr. Opolis' demise and a reevaluation of my own acceptable risk levels, I decided that I might benefit from greater research on my next Target. As luck would have it, Friday morning revealed quite a bit of useful information about Mark #6.
As a 19-year-old college student working nights and weekends at the local supermarket, Mark had the appearance of the perfect schedule for his own benefit: maximum safe zoneage coupled with the unpredictable vigor of youth. As observers, we can expect Mark to have an erratic sleeping/waking cycle, coming and going at ungodly hours of midday and midnight, nearly untraceable without constant surveillance.
Alas, there was a fatal flaw in this design, and like Alexander the Great through the knot of King Gordius, one swipe of my sword laid bare the solution: supermarkets are notorious for reporting employee schedule information to anyone phoning up claiming to be said employee.
Thus it was at 2pm today I found myself a hundred meters from Target's house, sipping a bitter cappuccino at a small round table outside of Royal Grounds, with the sweet knowledge that when Mark left for work, I had a clear view of his departure.
As 10 minutes to 3pm ticked itself out of my life forever, I realized that Mark may have been lucky enough to find himself waking in the bed of another this morning, as those virile college students often do, and my glorious soaking might have to wait another eight hours for him to leave the safety of the corporate nest. However, an alternate truth soon revealed itself: instead of walking to work, he cut his commute in half with a portable HPV. At 2:52pm, he emerged with a skateboard and began to skate towards safety, quickly rolling from my grasp.
As I watched my luck quickly fade, I determined not yet to give up hope. Fleet of foot, I ran parallel to Mark's trajectory, knowing that if I could maintain my speed uphill, our paths would cross soon enough. Four blocks away, I realized my Target's deadly sin of choice was none other than Sloth, and it proved to be his undoing. I graciously greeted him:
- "I know you're running late for work, so I'll keep this short."
[Spurt.]
- "Oh, shit."
They say that water giveth, and water taketh away, and the waterworks measuring my own time here has begun to run dry. When the time comes for a refill, I grok that the new watergiver's coming will signify a new existence for me, a parting with the resplendent life I have enjoyed here in streetwars, sharing my own life-giving water with those whose paths I have crossed. It is my hope that I may still have the chance to extend my water-brothership to others before the watergiver visits me again.
I patiently await my next assignment.
-Agent Zeno
SF2007
Like Donkey Kong, It Is Now On!
January 27, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 10:38 AM
Game Status Update...
Total Kill Count: 46
Current Kill Leader: Tie: NightThrasher (5) and Zeno (5)
Now this is starting to get fun...
Peep the kill leader information I had my strong, yet suprisingly soft and gentle, hands type up there. You see we have us a nice li'l tie situation going on between NightThrasher and Zeno going on...but we also have something even more interesting than that going on as well... You see...one of them is hunting the other. Now...I could step back and not reveal who is hunting whom...but where would the fun in that be? I don't know...and as I don't like things that I don't know, I'll go with what I know as opposed to what I don't know (which I don't like)....and I know that I told youse to re-peep the kill leader information for a reason. Also, let me just say that I will gladly be an intermediary if people want to pass along info to certain other people to hurt them or to help them. So, I really hope neither of you two have people you don't like reading this and willing to sell you out. I'm quite curious to see how this pans out... In today's update:
Kill stories and crap follow.
You ever see the Faces of Death where they have those dudes put a live monkey in this weird contraption and then bash its head in and eat fresh brain? Well, that's exactly what Nahsor (2) did to Monkey Head (0) except he didn't actually bash her skull in or eat her brain...so maybe not exactly like Faces of Death, but you get where I'm coming from
Dear beloved shadow government,
It is with great please that I inform you of the demise of Monkey Head. After days of stalking, I was becoming restless, and just as I was beginning to gather up a harem to offer you, I decided to give it one last chance. I pulled up to Monkey Head's house around 9:30, parked across the street and waited for half an hour until a spot opened in front to the buildings door. I took the car around the block and as I turned on the street I saw her opening the door. Knowing that every moment was precious, I sped up, pulled over jumped out and blasted the girl. Bring on the next dry sucka.
-Agent Nahsor
Zeno liquidly sexed the anus of Mr. Opolis. Now the crafty killer is running for kill leader...stay alive.
With pleasure I report in tonight that I've made my third kill in as many days, as my most recent Target has felt the blade of mine weapon, the sharp, wet...thing that I carry around.
Also with pleasure, I can report that this Target did not moisten idly - he was the first of my Marks to return fire, and it took me time and effort twentyfold compared with my last kill. I must respect a man of such complexity.
The story began last night when I took down Wolf Bait. Unfortunately, Dog Food did not have on him my next assignment, and as a condolence, he offered up my new Target's name and place of residence, and even went so far as to drive me to said residence, where I began my initial stakeout. Though I denigrate him for the ease with which I took him out, Pet Chow did go out of his way to further my cause, and I must thank him appropriately. Anyway, the stakeout we're now discussing did not begin smoothly. Though my Target's home was clearly unoccupied, I had not yet had a chance to do any research on him, and I did not know what he looked like. I HAD NOT SEEN A SINGLE PICTURE. The only intel I had told me to expect him on a bike, and even this was obtained unsolicited from a dubious source, a man who deals in the information black market, who could just as easily be working with the man holding my name. Nevertheless, high on the endorphins from my last kill, I decided that I was armed sufficiently, plenty alert, and that my balls were too big to fit in my pants, and certainly too big to give up yet.
And thus it was that I soaked my first civilian - the upstairs neighbor who was unfortunate enough to be a bicycle rider himself. I must carry this shame with me as I continue my life, and use the grief to power my drive.
After 2 and a half hours on this first stakeout, halfway through which I doused the biker - someone else arrived home, claiming to be my Target's roommate. Not eager to repeat my mistake of just an hour before, I chose to believe him and call it a night. In retrospect, this was the right choice.
Tonight, with only slightly more research, but aided greatly by several photos, I decided that I must make a second attempt on Target's home. Again, this proved to be another torturous 2+ hour endeavor, including another run-in with the unfortunate civilian from last night, who managed to get away dry this time. Just before I gave up all hope, thinking that my Target must have found another home to which to retire, telltale headlights shone in my direction, and a suspicious figure emerged. I could not make out his face, and the cut of his coif was unexpected, but there was no mistaking the menace he held under his overcoat - a menace full of life-taking liquid. Upon sensing this threat, my instincts knew no hesitation, and my guns were drawn and fired before he could completely fumble his weapon out from behind his coat. There was a moment of confusion where my Target believed he had life left in him and managed to eek out a few shots himself, but they fell short on both timing and distance.
And thus it is that I may have found my way neck-and-neck with Night Thrasher, five for five. I am honored to have a competitor who also feels the constant need to soak with precision and accuracy, and I look forward to the day when our skills, wits and weapons will be matched.
In the meantime, I await my next Target.
Victorious whiskey always as my muse,
-Agent Zeno
Boris the Blade (1) went all Meteorological on Raining Wet Death (0)...and was later Meteorologicalized himself.
On Jan 18, at 11:48pm team Raining Wet Death was rained out by GLORIOUS SON OF MOTHER RUSSIA: Me.
It took only 6 hours of recon work and 30 min to execute the perfectly planned operation - codename "DIE, CAPITALIST PIGS, DIE!!!" Out of three members of the Raining Wet Death one was a geek working two jobs, another was a geek working one job, and yet another was an unemployed geek pretending to be working (I guess, in hiding). This team was inferior to my elite assassination training with the most superior secret service in the world – KGB, Red Alert unit. It took almost no time to find the weakest link, conduct reconnaissance and execute...
My victim did not want to get wet easy - there were arguments, attempted negotiations, and a lot of begging involved. Next morning, coming to his senses, my undisputed victory was acknowledged by my mediocre, but honorable adversary.
On Jan 21, at 8:42pm member of competing Russian secret service “ Natascha“
has pleasantly surprised me with refreshing spray proving once again: no one
can kill a Russian but another Russian! She was provided with info on my
current mark, inherited from Raining Wet Death.End of transmission.
-- Boris The Blade
SF2007
The knives edge closer...
January 25, 2007 - Posted by Li'l Abacus at 08:27 PM
Game status update
Total kill count: 42
Kill leader: Night Thrasher (5)
Stepping briefly away from the duties that comes from being presented with so much delicious fried chicken and burbon, I return to the Mustache Mainframe® to see what kind of drama and entertainment you aspiring SF assassins have in store the ol' Mustache. Fingers still greasy from fried goodness, I tapped the keys to find only two measly kills, but wait... DRAMA INDEED?
Two of your best assassins from this here round, will soon be seeing each other from the corners of their eyes. One target, one prey.
Eager to see how this shakes out.
Also, don't forget this Sunday, at Laszlo's (2526 Mission St), is DRINKS FOR THE DEAD.
Come drink with your fellow dead players, and heck maybe even get laid.
In today's update:
- Night Thrasher (5) dickens the The Dude (0)
- Agent Zeno (4) chowed down on Wolf Bait (0)
Full story after the jump
Your daily kill stories
Night Thrasher (5) dickens the The Dude (0)
A Tale of Two Dudes.
It was the best of kills, it was the worst of kills. Two Dudes in two days. Less than 24 hours after whacking Lebowski, I, NightThrasher, popped 'The Dude'. It was a sublimely easy kill. After staking out his work yesterday, I watched my quarry board the N Judah. Alas there was not sufficient space-time to pull my piece and mount an attack. Positioning myself, this a.m., between said conveyance and my prey's abode, the fickle fingers of fate dealt The Thrasher a Royal Flush. Nanoseconds after my arrival my mark appeared. Like the dodo, unaccustomed to natural predators, 'The Dudo' left himself open to strike.
And verily, NightThrasher didst imbue the Dickens out of him.
Agent Zeno (4) chowed down on Wolf Bait (0)
You set 'em up, I wet 'em down.
Within 15 minutes of arriving at Target's lovely JP Morgan-financed Presidio home, I was eagerly greeted by none other than he himself standing backlit behing an opening garage door. I greet him by name and his game is up with one shot to the face.
I wish there were more to the story, but that's really all there is.
SF2007
Volunteers, Fried Chicken and Space Docking
January 25, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 04:33 AM
Game Status Update
Total Kill Count: 39
Current Kill Leader: Tie: NightThrasher (4) and the now deceased 1337 (4)
Lately when I wake up in my Emperor sized bed, with baby seal skin sheets, surrounded by a bevy of former virgins and I reach for my morning piece of breakfast fried chicken, I'm in a fairly craptastic mood.
You'd think that my liquor, gold, women and general disregard for the sanctity of life would keep me in a good mood all the time, but let me tell you that after a few years of living the high life ennui sets in hardcore. Then you start doing insaner shit just to see if it will make you feel alive. Hence my blatant disregard for numbers, the repeated beating and torture of my servants (Abu Ghraib ain't got nothing on the hallowed halls of the SG headquarters - granted our joint is cleaner and classier). I like the servants to feel special as they are getting their genitals electrocuted), my conceptual fascination with Space Docking, my hated of midgets and my interest in knowing what one would eat the week prior to being forced to taste their own shit.
Anyway, my point is that I feel that perhaps this languor has beset some of you assassins and, while you may not have the funds and social status to get away with doing the same things I do to deal with it, I would like to offer you a way to both spice up your assassinating and allow you to make it into week 3 of the tournament despite not having the minimum 2 kills – now this is only for those with large testicles (or the equivalent engorged body part for women that signals toughness – uterus?):
A volunteer mission.
Here's how it goes: you email us your desire to participate, if we choose you, we release your information to all the living assassins and the rogues. If you survive to Monday, you get a free pass to week 3 and perhaps a small token of our respect.
In today's update:
- NightThrasher (4) peed on the rug of a man for this time and place...sleep well Lebowski (1)
- Team Shabang Shabang (1) peeled squeezed and drank up the vitamin C fortified goodness of The 5th Orange (0)
- Kman (2) rocked it like a successful Elmer Fudd - homeboy found the rabbit hole, ordered some firehose equipment from ACME and let fly with some liquid death, wettifying himself one Rabbit (0)
- Zeno (3) went all Perfect Storm on The Belixious (1)
- Gweilo (2), although he did the killing, got a lesson on how real men operate - being schooled on the difference between a squirt and a stream by the always sexxxy Xtra Silky (0)
Kill stories and crap follow.
Your daily kill stories
NightThrasher (4) peed on the rug of a man for this time and place...sleep well Lebowski (1)
Agent NightThrasher confirming kill of Agent Lebowski.
This was a battle that raged on two fronts, over several days. The Dude was a worthy adversary, with the cunning of a fox, and the guile of a shaved greased hare. He bought himself a 24-hour reprieve on Monday, after a garage-door debacle that left the Thrasher limping, but far from limp. On Tuesday Lebowski pulled the rug from under me just as I was preparing to piss on it. Damn prostate. Today though, today, after a protracted gun battle, NightThrasher did what he does best... (and I don't mean talking about himself in the 3rd-person). After falling short with a mail-slot shot as The Dude gunned his whip in the garage, I secured a concealed vantage point through a small opening in the garage wall, beneath his power meter. I saw Lebowski's shoes, as he crouched, primed, hose-cannon in hand. Plunging my weapon-ed hand into the darkened slot I was able to loose a fusillade in his direction, before he hosed down my arm as if it were a newly-arrived lice-ridden convict at a correctional facility. I knew if he was wet then I was victorious. The Dude promptly and sportingly opened the door for corporeal inspection. Lo, there on his right arm was a trail of moist silvery beads, and the Thrasher had claimed another victim.
It was well that he went down fighting as he did, because I had already planned the next attack, inspired by Slayer's third album
[You lucky bastards get to read this story from both perspectives - SC]
I was killed this morning by Agent NightThrasher. During our second fierce gun battle at my compound, he somehow managed to actually put a hand with a gun THROUGH a wall of my home, all D.L. from "Heroes" stylee. I've never seen anything like it, but I shot at it anyway, with my Serious Motherfucker Home Defense Water Cannon [tm]. Chaos, resembling the final scene of Reservoir Dogs, ensued. We were both wet, but it wasn't entirely clear how the shit went down. The many high speed cameras I've set up around the perimeter of The Respectable Manor were destroyed by the various explosions, walls caving in, and bodies of civilian casualties draping themselves over them. I also lost several guard dogs, a couple of Hummers, and some motion activated smart targeting wall-mounted machine guns. I tipped my gun to James and conceded defeat. Afterwards, we synced up intel on each other, and on his next target. After hearing of his plans for me for the rest of the week, I consider myself lucky to have been taken out as mercifully as I was. He's a remorseless killing machine and I almost feel a little bad for his next target. Hope he doesn't have any pets or children.
Agent Lebowski
Team Shabang Shabang (1) peeled squeezed and drank up the vitamin C fortified goodness of The 5th Orange (0).
team shebang shebang caught mr H off guard. stalked him for hours today. i was walking on the opposite side of the street from his house. when out of the blue he starts walking my way. he was getting ready to cross the street-not at the light, jaywalker! when i called out his name he turned around and i shot him. he replys "oh man." ready for new assignment.
team shebang shebang
Kman (2) rocked it like a successful Elmer Fudd - homeboy found the rabbit hole, ordered some firehose equipment from ACME and let fly with some liquid death, wettifying himself one Rabbit (0).
6:30am is way to freaking early for an assassin who's been drinking all night. But knowing my target's a chump, I gambled I could probably just walk up to him and jizz him in the face... no need for anything elaborate. I did a quick drive-by of my target's apartment the night before. His car was parked right outside his front door so he's probably home with his girlfriend. The plan of attack was to get him in the morning as he leaves for work. After a quick coffee run to clear my head...and a quick bj from the Shanequa on Mission to clear my "other" head, I made my way to Ed's hood. He lives near a major intersection with bus stops at all four corners. It was going to be very easy to blend in with all the bus riders waiting at the stops. 8:00am, the girlfriend exits the apartment building. I walked by her to do a quick visual check. That's her so he must be close behind right? WRONG. Should have guessed he was a lazy bastard. Mind you, I'm a manly man but standing outside in the early morning for this long was so cold, it was making my bait'n tackle retrack inwards. If this guy doesn't come out soon, I was going to have to resort to plan B...Operation "JuicyLucy". Don't ask me what this is...you'll know it when it hits you. So after standing at the corner bus stop, counting numerous buses passed me by AND mistaken twice for a drug dealer, my target finally strolled out of his hole. 9:30am. Fucking took him long enough. The guy didn't even seem cautious... didn't act like he expects to be shot today. Sucka-foo! Today was his unlucky day. Took a sip of my whiskey laced coffee and faced his direction so I could get a clear shot. He had about 20 feet to go before he reached the bus stop. The guy had no chance. As he leisurely strolled towards me, I griped my trusty pistola hidden inside my coat. A visual check confirmed it was the target. Out comes the weapon... JIZZED like a dirty crack-ho. Rabbit is DEAD.
Zeno (3) went all Perfect Storm on The Belixious (1)
SG,
After 7 days of excruciating silence, I can finally report that my third target, The Belixious, is dripping from the ear. I promise no quality story in this update, however, as I am far too drunk on celebratory whiskey.
After recovering from the deadly biological weaponry (flu) my last target used to infect me, I spent a few days studying my new Target's habits at both his abode and his place of business. Since I found my Target occupied a desk in his office which was fully visible to me, even standing outside, I thought "yes, this shall be an easy task." Alas, I spent many a silent hour waiting outside on that first day before I promptly lost my Target on his exit. I still do not know what kind of black magic he used to elude me that day, but oh the pain it caused.
Saturday: The second attempt I made on my Target's dryness I decided to go balls-to-the-wall. His front porch was slightly obscured from the street by a waist-high wall, behind which I sat for approximately an hour waiting for his arrival home. This attempt would surely leave me completely exposed in the case of failure, but I decided that failure would not be acceptable. Unbeknownst to me, my Target was already indoors with his woman preparing for an outing. When the doorknob rattled, I was ready and had my pistol aimed to greet any exit with a shot between the eyes. Lucky for her, and perhaps less lucky for me, Target's woman exited the building first. I spared her, but her screams alerted Target to my presence, and he promptly shut and locked the door, offering his woman as a sacrifice for his safety.
Today, lunch: Two torturous hours waiting for Target to leave his office on a lunch break. Lesson learned: Target's job sucks donkey balls.
Today, evening: Waited patiently for Target to leave office. He was the last to go. Target's job still sucks donkey balls. Luckily for me, he does not recognize the man to whom he offered his mate just days before as our paths collide. As soon as he crosses the bridge from one building to another, clearly crossing a street below, I call him out and a short but solid shot jumps from my sidearm to Target's face. I offer him a towel, but he honorably declines.
Target did not have on him the profile of my next mark, but the name he mentioned may have been Chris ...whiskey haze sets in now... and he lives on Lake over in the Presidio. Sounds like I'll have a good fun time over by the old hospital.
Boozedly yours,
-Agent Zeno
Gweilo (2), although he did the killing, got a lesson on how real men operate - being schooled on the difference between a squirt and a stream by the always sexxxy Xtra Silky (0)
Agent Gweilo Reporting:
I have once again made a woman wet and moaning without even touching her. Xtra Silky is Dead.
1.24.07 0900
I depart with the dawn after a restless 3 hours of sleep to join the hordes of suits and skirts flocking to the Financial District. My initial plan to arise extremely early and stalk my victim at her home is thwarted by my nubile concubine who's determined love box keeps me rooted to my circular bed for an extra hour past my ETD. Exhausting her desires, I slip out of my lair and begin Plan B. Challenged by time, I am forced to drive the MoistMobile downtown to her office building. Fortunately the Assassin Gods are on my side, providing me with an ultra convenient parking place less than 10 meters from my stakeout point. After pumping a pound of loose currency into the parking meter ("shit, this thing must be broken, its only giving me 5 minutes for a quarter"), I stroll into the Megacorporation Coffee kiosk that is conveniently placed across the street from another Megacorporation Coffee which is also a half block down from a third of the same brand. I retrieved my UberGigantor Quadruple HalfCap Frothy Java drink from the chipper barrista and place myself within a vantage point of the two most convenient BART exits leading to her work.
The stream of mindless beasts exiting the escalator is thick, and I'm challenged to keep watch over every exiting drone without looking extremely obvious. I should have disguised myself as a mumbling panhandler, instead of the poor lanky office intern/possible bike messenger look that I was wearing. Hell, at least that way I might have made some cash while waiting for my target and at least paid for my parking, if not the gallon of supercaffeinated beverage that I was sipping. Time begins to pass and I fear that my morning may have been spent better in the capable arms of my personal masseuse. But there is no time for whining, I had a job to do.
It is almost 0900 with absolutely no sign of my hit, and the stream of '9 to 5ers' is beginning to wane. I strafe over to my escape vehicle to place one last bucket of coins in the meter. While heading back for another stroll of the station exit my pulse quickens when I see familiar wisps of light brown hair rising from the subway. I continue walking past her, confirming the telltale mole on her right cheek. Her hands are both out of her pockets, and her pace is focused on crossing the street to her office building. Her nervous glance bounces off my dark sunglasses and beanie, then moves on with no recognition of danger. Check and Mate.
Immediately after passing her, I double back and pace alongside until we are three paces from reaching the block of her building. A quick loving squirt brings about her demise. In the words of our esteemed President: 'Mission Accomplished'.
I must note that Xtra Silky did die a glorious death. Immediately after lightly basting her with my waterpistola, she exclaimed "NO, I wanted to go out better than that!!". I had initially spared the SS MAXD2000 on her primarily due to the presence of an officer of the peace who had, just before the moment of sighting her, walked into a nearby cafe for his daily cache of doughnuts. Never one to leave a woman wanting, I inquired: "If that wasn't good enough, then how would you like it?" "Give me you're best money shot!" she exclaimed. I was only too happy to oblige. And I must say, she was pretty happy with it as well.
SF2007
Why The West Coast Sucks.
January 22, 2007 - Posted by Li'l Abacus at 08:09 PM
Current status...
Total Kill Count: 30
Current kill leader: 1337 (4)
The West Coast sucks because of you. I hear from about six of you. No one comes axing or begging me for work schedules or additional photos. You play dirty and pull childish pranks on your targets that have absolutely nothing to do with wetting them. I'm gonna make a joke and go pee-pee in your Coke. How do you like me now?! Why are you so shitty? Please tell me.
Enough about you. You are boring and ugly and were adopted. Let's talk about how awesome The Commanders are. The harem got reupholstered this past weekend. It went from purple and gold to black and gold. We even had the silk throw pillows hand made (by virgins) and imported from India. Unfortunately for me, it was also bath day for the harem and I spent most of my time milking goats, gathering rose petals and waxing their woman areas. Tomorrow I have to clean up Supreme's life juice because we haven't gotten the place Scotchgarded yet. Maybe the winner will get invited to spend the night there.
In today's update
- Emmanuel (1) turned up their guns to eleven for Amp (0)
- Nahsor (1) popped the 'roids of Memorrhage Man (0)
- Kailin (1) wetted Nharlotek (0)
- Lone Wolf With Child (1) gave the bidness to Chris Chen (0)
Your daily kill stories
- Emmanuel (1) turned up their gusn to eleven for Amp (0)
". . . from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee."
And Lo! A filthy soul has been washed from the earth by the fell stream of justice. Agent Amp was struck wet this morning by Team Emanuelle's own Agent Stone. The encounter was swift, the shots true, and our enemy taken unawares outside his building this morning in the cool light of dawn on his way to school.
But think not that our lust is sated. We yearn for another adversary to best on the field of combat. We await our next target.
Yours,
Team Emanuelle
- Lone Wolf With Child (1) gave the bidness to Chris Chen (0)
Today, January 21, 2007 at approximately 20.00 hours I gently but firmly told Chris Chen to get off his knees and put the embarrassingly inappropriate five dollar bill back in his pocket. As I gently rubbed the tears from his eyes and sprayed his pathetic face with the sweet liquid which I like to call success. Me and my fellow assassin, small dead things, are humble discreet professionals, but we would just like to make clear that Chris Chen is a bitch.
to you and yours,
st. francis
SF2007
Comments are back on the blog
January 22, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 03:26 PM
With some help from a trusty friend at Movable type, we can turn commenting back on. No need to register, just comment away!
SF2007
Depends
January 21, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 11:30 PM
Game Status Update
Total Kill Count: 26
Current Kill Leader: 1337 (4)
Honestly, I can't help but be a bit disappointed in this current class of "assassins" (I use that term loosely)...after pick-ups I had high hopes, the disguises were tight, many of you were balancing right on the line of falling down drunk and your bravado was non pareil...
A full week has gone by and you have given me but 26 kills...
Just to give you some perspective, in the last NYC tournament after the first week we had 48 kills.
[You West Coasters are lazy. Maybe I should bring in some of the NYC assassins to teach you how it is done...in fact, I may very well have an advice column for you suckaz. "Ask a REAL Assassin". Debuting on Wednesday! Send in your questions!]
Yer too used to the nice weather, quality marijuana and cheap drink and yet you still think yer all thug life. pffft.
I have had bowel movements that were more deadly than you.
But I'm not here to talk about the Shitstorms coming out of my toned, firm ass, no, I'm here to talk about the impending Shitstorm on the horizon for you cats...I suggest you put on some Depends before continuing the reading of this entry...
Got 'em on?
Good.
Continue...
Well, at midnight tonight the first week of the tournament is complete and those of you that haven't done what you were supposed to do will be like *totally* pimp-slapped out of the game.
[some exceptions may be made...IF you actually put work into wetting your target...if you DO NOT get an email from me kicking you out of the tournament, consider yourself spared -see, I can be nice...sometimes...]
To those of you that made it past the first week, I offer my heartfelt congratulations. No easy feat to last this long...many have fallen to the liquid justice doled out by their fellow competitors...and more will soon fall by the hand of my personal assassins.OH!
Did I forget to mention?
Today is also the day I am releasing my personal assassins on you
Have fun!
And now, on to the day's killings...
Your daily kill stories
1337 (4) is living up to their name...they are just on track to take on the record of the all time kill leaders The Bushwick Country Club (12) from the NYC 2007 tournament. Victim number 4 was Zerg rushed. Skillen (0), went down hard.
Killen Down.
Our fourth target has been the most allusive target yet.
2 days of solid work.And after putting in a nine hour shift last night, 1337 started showing signs of fatigue. Frustrated and bitter, somehow Sean had slipped through our fingers. Today, determined to not let it happen again, 1337 mounted up. Arriving late and starving, I needed Chinese food. STA. Naively, leaving DJANGO, as well as my sidearm, behind. What can I say. I do my killing before breakfast. But fuck me, What would I spot on the way back from luscious Luu's with no hydration in hand? The whites of my targets eye. . Unarmed, I was caught with my dick in the wind.
Two more steps and I see his right hand in his pocket. Game time, no gear. Mother F. Seeing DJANGO up the block, I had to find some way to signal him while still delaying Sean. "Sean?" I say to the gent as I pass.
With steadfast composure, Sean gave us the slip; All and all, a great maneuver by him. "Fuck!!!!!!!" I yelled slamming my, freshly bought, slightly alcoholic, beverage into the concrete. Moral tattered, 1337 rethought our strategy.
We weren't going fucking anywhere. How our strategy paid off.
After 15 total hours of stalking, a run in with neighbors, numerous argument, battling rando's across the street, and eating some sweet pot stickers, 1337 reacquired said target at 22.20. In a rush, Sean was obviously panicked. By the numbers, DJANGO and I swarmed in to action; our target through the gate and on the run. Everything was on fast-forward. Cornered, Sean took position at his door. A swimmer, however, in the ocean does not fear the rain and we weren't about to be shook. It was over before he stopped. 1337'5 steadfast stakeout had paid off. We genuflect on this day and appreciation of that which shadows have afforded us.
PWN3r
1337
Mad Dog (1) went all hydrophobic and in that altered state was able to divine the demise of his target The Oracle (0). I am a bit suprised The Oracle didn't see it coming...I fucking hate false advertising...
I Mad Dog, took out my target, The Oracle shortly after 7am on Jan. 19.
[SC: Wow. Great story. Sounds like a real exciting kill. Hope you didn't waste too much time writing it up for our amusement. Punk.]
Score one for the foreign devil! Gweilo (1) put the liquid hurting on Valdara (0)
Agent Gweilo has successfully killed his target. Valdara has been soaked and shamed. Here's the report:
1.19.07, 0700
I had assumed that this was going to be an easy hit, but we all know the problem with assumptions. Two days of stakeouts had provided no sight of my intended target, so I realized that it was time to get serious. My hit worked in an office setting. This meant that her work and sleep hours were wreaking havoc with my nocturnal occupation, whisky swiggin, and attending to my harem. Oh well, there's no crying in assassination.
I arise at 0630 after a restless 2 hours of sleep and drive to my stakeout position. From my position on Treasure Island the sun is rising over the Oakland Hills, casting a rosy glow on the Bay Bridge and reflecting golden light off the buildings of downtown SF. A beautiful morning to die. I position myself with an ample view of the front door, and a shot of the side passageway toward the backyard. I'm expecting my target to make a quick run to the busstop half a block away. I was prepaired in this scenario to drive ahead and either get on the bus several stops down, or drive and positon myself outside the bus terminal and wait . . . but the option never came. I waited for half an hour - hour - hour and a half before I realize that she is either an invincibly early riser, or not coming home at all. By now the mist on my windshield that had provide perfect cover for my observation had evaporated and I'm sitting behind the wheel smoking ciggarettes and drinking warm coke looking and feeling a bit idiotic. Oh well, time to get back to my harem; their cravings never cease, and who am I to deny them.
1.19.07; 15:30
After an afternoon of takin care of bizniz, I return for another short stakeout before heading to work for the evening. I'm waiting for a white truck to pull in. I had identified it earlier in the week. Only later was I to learn that I had misidentified her car, and that her roomate had narrowly missed a waterballoon to the face on Wednesday.
I'm about to leave for work, when I notice several individuals exit the house. My heartrate increases as I properly identify my target getting into the passenger seat of a car. This time I was about half a block down, observing everything through the reaview mirror. They hadn't seen me and drive past quickly on their way to the bridge. I the car in drive, and follow at a very decent distance. Once on the bridge I rapidly regain the ground that I had lost, placing myself right behind them as we exited the freeway at Fremont. The car quickly pulls to the curb at 1st and Howard, my target is getting out of the vehicle, and I have no option other than to swerve past. I slow on the next block, observe my targets walking direction, and gun it around the block. I get back onto 1st heading south and get stopped at the Transbay Terminal just as she is strolling across the street right in front of me, clueless as to her soon to be soaking fate. The light goes green and I smoothly pull onto Minna. The assassin gods are on my side, providing me with a easily accessable parking place. I sprint back a block to Market and First. She is just dissapearing around a construction site halfway down the block. I jog to within 10 meters, and slow my steps to slowly overtake her at a casual pace. 8 meters; I notice both hands of my target firmly shoved in her pockets, her clamy palms obviously clutching waterpistolas that will soon be rendered useless. 5 meters; as we cross Mission and head North on New Montgomery I prepair my little purple assassination machine. I decide on the mini pistol, even though I have a hand pumped blaster in my side bag. As my friend Ward, a Vietnam Vet, would have been known to say: "When you're knee deep in the shit, never use a bazooka when a razor blade is far more effective". 1 meter; I pull astride, unholster my gat, say her name, and deliver a rain of justice across her stunned face before the sound of her scream had even begun.
~Agent Gweilo; awating my next assignment~
NightTrasher (3) wettified the unfortunately (but accurately) named CyKill (1)
Agent NightThrasher confirming kill of Agent Cykill. Kill time 5.05pm.
Witnesses: 0
After...serendipitously...gaining entry to the target's apartment building on Thursday, I located his apartment and stood guard, dripping weapon drawn, outside his door. Though I was compelled, due to prior obligations, to leave my guard post after a mere 2 hours and 23 minutes (without making an attack) I did overhear a phone conversation containing a golden nugget of information. Upon my safe return to NTHQ I entered this information into my state-of-the-art Windows NT machine. Thanks to the consequent results I was able to set up a meeting with the target, under the guise of a prosaic transaction. I spoke with the target on Friday to confirm the meeting.
I arrived early.
I doused him.
CyKill (1) was able to prevent himself from being fully chumped by chumping Chris Doom (0) before being chumped himself. Remember, the only difference between champ and chump is u.
Esteemed Rulers,
It is with joy and sadness that I write you today... First, the joy.
After countless hours logged stalking my prey I decided that today, Friday, was the day. I wrapped up the workday early and made my way on over to my target's house. I pulled into a parking spot on his block, turned off the ignition and thought I'd settle in for a little recon. That wouldn't happen.
As I shut off the ignition I checked my mirror and saw my prey driving up the street and then turn into his driveway. I quickly drew out my weapon (Super Soaker Flash Flood) and tried to move in without being seen. Unfortunately he spotted me, and a short stand-off occurred as I crouched behind a truck and he sat in his car. Eventually he opted out of the situation and started to back out. Feeling frustrated with the hunt I boldly stepped into the open and soaked his passenger side front window. As he looked at me, smiling I believe, he drove off down the street and around the corner.
I wasn't done, not by a long shot. Given his quick arrival I'd left my truck unlocked and the keys in the ignition. I bolted into the driver's seat, started the car and circled around the other side of the block hoping to catch him. Luckily I did that right as he turned back towards me, what's more is that he seemed to be looping back around behind my original position, perhaps to catch me unaware from the rear. Not so easy my friend.
I went back to where I was before, put away my large weapon and tucked a small water pistol in my belt. I took off my sweatshirt, put on a wool beanie cap and sunglasses. I then walked in the direction I thought he'd now be coming. As I turned the corner I saw him, he saw me as well but didn't recognize me. I wasn't close enough for the kill so I again went into stalk mode. I was able to get behind him, hopping from car to car, hiding as I drew closer, and closer, and closer...
He came to a street corner and started to cross, it was now or never. I stepped out from my last hiding spot and ran towards him, water pistol drawn. I got close and fired a single shot. Direct hit.
CG out. 3:45pm
Now here's the sad part. I ride motorcycles and had been contacted on one of my local forums from someone wanting to buy some parts I previously had for sale. My spidey sense went off but I was somehow confortable with having been called from a 650 phone, and with having checked his online profile saying he was from San Mateo (liar!) and that he'd been a member for over a year. Stupid move. We had arranged to meet at my garage at 5:30pm, my spidey sense had me planning how to protect myself when he arrived. The problem is that he arrived 30 minutes early, scoped my dumb ass out and pounced at a moment when I wasn't ready. My water guns were out of reach and he was at nearly point-blank range. I took a shot to the chest.
Agent CyKill is dead. NightThrasher has notched another kill (his third). 5:10pm
Thanks for putting on such a great game and my sincere apologies for my
clearly shoddy play. While I'm thrilled I managed one kill before being
taken out I simply cannot take pride in my performance overall. "Next
time" I keep telling myself, but the pain won't go away.
I'll now go wallow in sorrow with a bottle of whiskey for a while... :)
Nun Sandwich (1) ate the hell out of Fat Baby (0)
It's all over for Fat Baby.
After fruitless stalking around the poor miss' house and work, I had one of my accomplices find out the target's work schedule by calling her workplace and pretending to be her. I had three of my most skilled minions sit in a bar across her house at the time I estimated she would be leaving for work. I had complete confidence in these guys, we've gotten through some deep shit together. Ahh, I remember the gig in Helsinki, 1998. If that pod of Russian albino pandas didn't get us, we couldn't be touched, ever. These guys are like ghosts, they are like the wind. Whip of God, Kaiser Söze, Cuddles the Green Bear, tonight we will celebrate!
Meanwhile, I lurked less than a block away from her work.
My guerrillas, experts in urban reconnaissance, followed her from a safe distance updating me of her position. When she was a block away, I instructed my people to fall back in the unlikely event that they had been seen. This way she would obtain a false sense of security and lower her guard.
I was standing on a bus stop, unseen, as she walked past me. I let her take a few last steps, walked after her, pulled my smaller sidearm from my ankle holster (I didn't want to make a mess with the big gun), and squirted two in the back of her head.
She screamed, laughed, bowed her head in defeat and gave me her card. It was a good death.
Nun Sandwich is good. I am Nun Sandwich.
Huffnpuff (1) slowly and sensually removed Fuzzy Undies (0), making him wet.
All hail the shadow government!!
I did not see my 1st kill reflected in the recent body count and humbly request that my story have a chance at immortality on the Street Wars blog. Just in case you wanted a more detailed summary of the hours that led to my CL's death, here it is...
Started the chase full of energy and with high hopes that this would be a quick kill. Boy I was wrong!!! 10 hours later, I was still waiting and about to loose patience. I had not seen my mark at all but I had made friends with all the neighbors and even the manager of the building. Pitiful …
Came back the day after, early in the morning, but the target had already left for work… Fear of getting soaked must have forced him out of his studio early to go to work. Maybe I should apply that strategy to my direct reports …
With so much time spent at work, I figured my target would by now be "well done" (stressed out, overworked and borderline paranoiac) so I decided to come back even earlier to his place and patiently waited until he would step out of his apartment. I charmed one of the girls in his apartment complex to let me in and stealthy made my way through the back staircase. There was some electricity in the air … or was that just humidity from the rain that poured the day before? At last, he decided to leave his hideout, took a few step in the hallway checking left and right, gun at hand ready to fire but I waited … I waited until he felt a bit more comfortable and started talking to someone. That's when the shooting began!!! It was quick and deadly but not surgical … turned out there was some collateral damages as I got the GF wet as well.
What a way to start the day.
Agent HuffnPuff
Dr. Monkey (2) went all ape-shit (like literally flinging feces) on Striker (0)
Shadow Government,
Part of my cover for my second kill involved pretending to work at a mortuary where I loaded several full coffins in to Hearsts. After washing the Hearsts with the "fellow" morticians so I could observe my target at his apartment, I made my second kill within 4 hours of stalking time.
My target was as common looking as you can get in the Mission. In a neighborhood overran by trendy hipster scum, all of who sport short beards and trucker hats, the only way I could distinguish my common looking target was by his shoes. Yes, his shoes. In his photos I could tell that he's the kind of guy that owned and wore only one pair of shoes: Black Addidas with two white stripes.
After spraying down 3 of my target's unsuspecting neighbors by accident, I went to a nearby bar for a drink. I sat down, ordered my whisky sour, and downed it. As I departed the watering hole, to return to my stake-out, I saw my tool of a target. He walked right in front of me!
... We caught each others eyes. I quickly looked down and spotted his give-away-Addidas-shoes-wearing ass. I yelled his name, "David!", he hesitated to but still turned his head. That's when the hose-down and chase began! I fired and pushed my way through a crowd of bystanders while yelling obscenities at him for making me run.
The target finally stopped. Dead.
Once I collected my targets appropriate documentation, his roommates and I celebrated his death with copious amounts of drinks back at the bar.
Agent Dr. Monkey
SF2007
Tonight: DRINKS for the DEAD
January 21, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 04:06 PM
Just because you are dead, it doesn't mean StreetWars is over for you just yet.
Come to Laszlo's tonight and join the Mustache Commander for Drinks for the Dead.
Drink, trade stories, tell your sad tales of defeat, and hope Mustache's good looks rubs off on you and help you get lucky.
Sunday Night, 9pm and on
Laszlo's
On mission between 21st and 22nd.
See you dead assassins there.
SF2007
Comments
January 19, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 12:13 AM
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SF2007
Question & Answer time, with Mustache Commander
January 18, 2007 - Posted by Mustache Commander at 07:33 PM
Game status update
Total kill count: 18
Kill leader: 1337 (3)
Question: What if i worked at a downtown city block, with little lanes and alleys running through them? Where are the bounderies of my work safe zone?
Answer: If there is a street/lane/alley that has a street sign with a name to it (meaning the alley or what have you, has a name and the buildings in it can have addresses based on that name, though having building with street numbers on it is not required), and cars can drive on said street with name, then that defines the border of your safe zone. If cars are not legally allowed to drive on it, then it is not a border to your safe zone.
Question: I see my assassin on my work block, can I shoot him/her/them with impunity and get my 24hours of safety?
Answer: Yes.
That's it for this session of Q&A with the Mustache Commander. Send in your questions about anything related to the game, or about delicious fried chicken, the Lakers, baby jesus, or anything at all. If you are lucky, I might answer them on this here blog.
And now, on to the day's killings...
In today's update:
- Team 1337 (3) ate a delicous Marshmallow (0)
- Fallen (1) smoked Smoke Shadow (0)
- Snohobo (2) ate a delicous Fallen (1)
- Dr Monkey (1) mastered Eric Masters (0)
- Miss Dutchess (1) eliminated Raphael (0)
- HomoOne (1) cleaned up SlimyBastard (0)
- Kman (1) killed Tman (0)
- NightThrasher (2) found a cure for the Tropical Flu (0)
- Lebowski (1) switched off the Hidden Switches (0)
- Zeno (2) transformed Optimus Prime Junior (0) into a wet assassin
- The Belixious (1) wetted That Guy (0)
- Agent Kobayashi (2) passed Fastpass (0)
- HolyKrow (1) dispensed with Leon (0)
Full story after the jump
Your daily kill stories
Team 1337 (3) ate a delicous Marshmallow (0)
Marshmallow, unlike St. Andrew's Revenge, did have a fighting chance. After a chase in the building team 1337 was giving up and loudly voicing our frustration on the street corner when Marshmallow ran out, super soaker in tow.
"Which one of you is it?!!" She yells.
Too late. Django had already shot her with Pwner jumping in front of
her blast secret service style.
We humbly prostrate ourselves before the Shadow Government and would
like to offer another bottle of whiskey, if it pleases you.
Snohobo (2) ate a delicous Fallen (1)
I thoroughly hella wetted one (1) emo loser today.
After 'emo face' thwarted my attack yesterday due to my HONG DA 996 pistol misfiring and giving my mark an opportunity to wet me with a syringe (which he no doubt uses to pluck tears from baby's eyes to moisturize his skin) - I made sure to check the time and vowed to pop him minutes after my 24 hour cool off period.
I followed my target form his place of work - to a bank close by. My target was wearing an awesome homemade emo sweatshirt and some sweet frayed up emo jean shorts (nice legs) and had the classic emo side sweep cut - most probably dyed with grape kool aid powder. He made me yesterday - but I was convinced that my 'gay leather cop' disguise would throw him off.
I entered the bank where he was about to make a deposit into his no doubt mini savings account - walked up to him and shot him point blank in the belly. The banker looked very uninterested.
He then - of course - started whimpering about how life was unfair - how he never got enough hugs - and said something about bringing sexy back while trying to slash his wrists with a spork.
Dr Monkey (1) mastered Eric Masters (0)
After 6 hours of staking out my mark, I made my first kill at roughly 7:30pm tonight!
I have killed: Christopher Hellis aka Eric Masters, at his house, 44 Fair Oaks Street.
Was going to make you all proud and kill another tonight, but felt my cockiness from the first kill could be my down fall.
Miss Dutchess (1) eliminated Raphael (0)
i have killed my assignment, raphael . he was shot as exiting his
home on his way to work.
that is all.
HomoOne (1) cleaned up SlimyBastard (0)
At 8:49AM this morning, my target, SlimyBastard was (water) gunned down as he attempted to enter his carefully-parked car on 18th St.
My stakeout started at 7am when I parked my car in front of 3857 18th St. I was able to conduct surveillance of the sole entry/exit to SlimyBastard's apartment at 3861 18th in my rear-view mirror. In calling the main number at SlimyBastard's office, I discovered that his office opened at 9am. Given that his place didn't have a garage; it could easily be assumed that he would have to leave sometime before the 9am hour to begin his work-bound travels
After an hour and 45 min of monitoring and two of Phil's (best f__king liquid crack in the city) Homemade Turkish Coffees, (Much to my delight, my mark lived just down the street from Philz) the time I had originally allotted for monitoring had expired. I was already late for work myself, but something told me to give it 5 more min.
Then, in my rear view mirror, I saw my mark. He has taken special care to park his car right in front of the stairway to his apartment complex. Unfortunately for him, I was parked in front of that very car. I acted quickly, pulling my weapon and ambushing my victim.
He was within SECONDS of closing the door to his car when he was wetted inside his car. "No!" he screamed in a key of, I thin, C-flat. It was music to my ears, at least.
It seemed the victims keys and morning bun acted as barriers to his speedy escape. I shook hands with the departed and he surrendered his Streetwars card. (Crappy cell phone pic of card attached)
For the record: this is the second time I nailed my target. The first time, unfortunately was (at the time-unknowingly) before the game had officially begun. This take-down will be a lesson to this assasin that tenacity is only good when you pay attention to details This time, it's official: SlimyBastard's candle has been snuffed.
Kman (1) killed Tman (0)
The rain was coming down pretty hard tonight. Perfect for an assassin. Location: TARGET'S WORK. As I drove by, I spot him standing outside. Unfortunate for him, his profession left him out in the open. After a quick look to confirm that was him, I parked my car nearby. There were plenty of people walking about making it easy for me to blend in. I make my way to the street corner of his work; close enough to get a second look. I pretend to talk on the cell phone to look a little less conspicuous. He suspects nothing as I get a clear look of his face. TARGET CONFIRMED. This guy is going down. All I need now is to wait for the opportunity to strike once he steps off the block. After about 15 mins, target is on the go. I follow him as he steps off the block. Ok, now he's fair game. I knew he'd come back sooner or later so I hide and wait for my shot. Sure enough, after 10 mins, I see the target strolling back. As I nonchalantly wait at the street corner, he walks right by me; I pull out my pistola and SQUIRT. TARGET DOWN. Easy Peasy.
NightThrasher (2) found a cure for the Tropical Flu (0)
Agent NightThrasher confirming kill of Agent Tropical Flu. With a combined stakeout time of 7 hrs and 23 minutes, this kill was sweet relief, if only from hypothermia. I had previously ascertained Tropical’s exact apartment location via a serendipitous entry to the building. Returning for the kill in the early hours of the morning, I stood sentry behind the edifice as dawn’s first steely light crept up in the east. When at last a yellow glow appeared at that hypnotizing window I knew today I would finally catch the Flu… (so to speak). I hurriedly relocated myself to my secondary vantage point on the opposite side of the loathsome structure, across the busy street. Though she did dally, and my forbearance was waning, at last I saw a taxi pull in front of her abode. “Someone’s in a hurry, methinks”. I hot-footed it across the dual-carriageway to place myself at the obscured point of an isosceles triangle, the other two vertices being the open door of said taxi, and that of the afore-mentioned building. When Tropical Flu entered the triangle I bisected it with a stream of watery antidote, and the Flu was no more.
On the way home I mailed my 2006 Tax Return.
Lebowski (1) switched off the Hidden Switches (0)
This morning, I awakened without the aid of an alarm, at 6:00am. The taste that lingered in my mouth was not the usual booze and hookers. This was booze and hookers, with a healthy side order of bloodthirst. I knew I must kill today, or I would not sleep again. I rose from my bed, careful not to disturb the rest of the house, and began my morning ritual of meditation, calisthenics, personal hygiene, and body mutilation. I also ate half an old strawberry filled donut. I would need every ounce of strength I could muster.
As I prepared my assassination kit, my mind delighted in the thought of finally bringing about the demise of my targets. In the last few days, I learned much about them, as they learned nothing of me. I spent cold nights lingering around their homes and their place of business. I aroused the suspicions of various neighbors and patrons of our fine city’s Municipal Railway. There’s a valet at a certain SOMA restaurant who I’m sure has the image of my face burned to his memory. All of this was a prelude, I dreamt. As I knelt on my bed of nails in front of my altar, the sting of melting candle wax searing my nipples, I tapped in to a higher part of my consciousness. It spoke to me. It told me that today was the day the shit would go down.
I descended to the garage to take stock of the various vehicles that were available for this morning’s mission. I chose a stealthy and inconspicuous chariot. An “everyman” car. It would provide sufficient coverage as I stalked, yet its top secret hydro-fusion proton accelerated 1000 bhp motor could put me anywhere on the block in the blink of an eye. Also, it has sweet rims and is almost completely paid off.
I decided to make a quick check of the neighborhood to see if there were any nefarious characters with the same ideas in their head as were in mine. Certainly there wouldn’t be another assassin with the discipline to be in my area at this ridiculous hour, but I’m not the type to leave a stone unturned. I exited my house secretly and quickly made eye contact with a shadowy figure who’d positioned himself three houses up the street. I’d been seen. I don’t like being seen, and it took all the self-restraint I could muster to keep myself from unleashing a watery wrath upon this pathetic amateur like this city has never seen.
Seeing me see him, the bumbling wannabe assassin simply turned around and faced the house he was standing in front of. The old “hide in plain sight” routine. Well played, sir. I retreated back in to the house where I could monitor his activities from behind three foot thick safety glass. I eventually determined that his presence was not a threat, and that I could easily depart without having to bother with him. I cursed him one last time for derailing me from my schedule, and proceeded out.
Safely off my block, I noticed that my vehicle was low on fuel. Not surprising. In addition to several hundred gallons of hydrogen and protons per mile, it also consumes quite a bit of standard petrol, as well as several kittens. When it comes to vehicles, I cannot be troubled with trivia such as conservation and environmental friendliness. Hell, the mere mention of the word “friendliness” is completely wasted on me. I filled my tank and continued on to what would be the site of a glorious battle, most assuredly ending in my victory.
I arrived at Agent Gurl ’s street at approximately 7:00am. I had reason to believe that my two targets were dating each other and had spent the night at this location. As I drove by, I observed that a hall light appeared to be on. I hoped I would not have to wait long. I needed to quench this thirst. I found a parking space a few houses up and settled in, prepared to consume an unhealthy amount of sunflower seeds and smoke several packs of cigarettes. I knew at some point I would need to acquire a partner, whom I could then send out for coffee.
I was surprised that it was only ten minutes before the murderous duo of Boi and Gurl cautiously set foot on the sidewalk in front of Gurl ’s apartment. They peered up and down the block in a very “Shaggy and Velma” sort of way before deciding the coast was clear and crossing the street towards Stanyan Ave. I could have sworn they looked directly at me, and perhaps they did, but I’d certainly escaped their suspicion. I silently exited my vehicle and began a casual walk up the sidewalk on the other side of the street, and approximately 100 feet back from them. They turned the corner and, out of their possible eyesight, I sped up my pace until I rounded the same. As I regained sight of them, I observed what would eventually be their demise: they strolled in a casual loving embrace... slowly... and with no concern for anyone but each other. Their sweetness would have brought a tear, had I not been so cold-blooded. Instead, it afforded me the opportunity I needed. I quickened my pace behind them. As I closed the gap, I drew my Super Soaker. It wouldn’t be long now. I began to run towards them, ready for the possibility that one of them could turn and fire at any moment. Closer... closer.... They spoke in soft tones, each hanging on the other’s every word. Closer... closer... Their casual stroll became ever more poetic as I approached. Closer... closer... I found myself within five feet of the couple, who had still not noticed me. Time froze.
Suddenly, a spark of compassion. A tiny spark. It struggled against the coldness of my soul to ignite a tiny flame of empathy. I felt an emotion I’d never felt before. Mercy. I felt merciful. In a split second, I decided to not to take the opportunity to kill both targets as they walked side by side. Instead, I would allow Gurl to live, watching her gentleman lover take his last breath of his mortal life, and dying in her arms. I only needed to kill one of them to take them both out, so I would abstain from the joy of killing both. And here I thought that the spirit of the recent holidays had eluded me. Go figure.
I blurted out, “HEY BOI ”. The couple turned their heads as I gleefully delivered a glimmering stream from my Super Soaker to Boi ’s shoulder. He wailed in pain and defeat as Gurl ’s face turned to horror and she yelped one last cry for her fallen companion. As they both realized who I was, Gurl ’s face became vacant and she gave him a sympathetic “Ooooh”. Clearly, her healing process had begun, and she was moving on.
Pleasantries were exchanged as I removed the Streetwars identification card from Boi ’s soaked body. I made a quick phone call to summon some goons to come by and dispose of him. It was 7:15 and my work was done.
More watershed will be forthcoming. My work ethic is impeccable.
Zeno (2) transformed Optimus Prime Junior (0) into a wet assassin
Agent Optimus Prime Junior was taken down with a direct shot to the forehead when he foolishly cracked open his door to greet my Agents of Deception, otherwise known as his next-door neighbors. While he explicitly admits defeat, he claims that he has not yet received his identification from the Shadow Government due to "a bit of the flu".
I watched over him as he dispatched an electronic message to the SG notifying them of the kill.
The Belixious (1) wetted That Guy (0)
Following an hours stakeout, and a clean roommate kill—proof that roommates shouldn't let their street-warring cohabitants make them take out the trash—the Target arrived home and regretted one too many steps to his front door. It was a clean shot in the back accompanied by a hearty ration of expletives by the Target.
Off to meet my next victim...
Time of death: 7:45
Agent Kobayashi (2) passed Fastpass (0)
Making amends for my past failure is rewarding. I got a surprising kill of my 2nd target. I figured that my mark was a student and may have had a lot of time on his hands to make a kill. This guy was as smart as me but not quick on the draw or should I say, a bit anxious and careless.
Both of us had the same idea of attacking at the same time frame. I was posting up at a stop light intersection attending to my phone. I see my mark coming out of his building and dashing towards me with a water gun (though I had not noticed he was armed at the ready.) Later I find that his target, now mine, was down the street somewhere. Still looking at my phone I hear something drop to the ground. The target was about a few feet away and dropped his own phone to the ground, detaching his battery and battery cover. “Holy Shit, “I said with an uncertain look on my face all because I was not sure if this was my mark and the fact that he had smashed his phone to the ground.
I stared at him a bit more and notice that this WAS my mark. He scrambles for his phone parts and stares back at me. Without hesitation I pull out my Walther PPK and gun him down with JIZZ.
Sorry my friend but excitement and carelessness cannot be tolerated in this line of work.
SF2007
341
January 16, 2007 - Posted by Supreme Commander at 11:12 PM
Game Status Update
Total Kill Count: 7
Current Kill Leader: 1337 (3)
Ahhh, back in the palace in NYC...
Let me say it was a pleasure meeting (most of) you this past weekend, granted there were some fucking ugly-ass faces amongst you, but after puking at their memory, I expunged them from my system and have convinced myself that all of you were pretty hot and that I would proudly pimp for each and every one of you...so, if yer short on cash, give me a shout. I promise to not beat you too hard with the wire coat hanger and I won't force you to take it bareback without a premium price. I digress...it was good meeting and drinking with you and I have high hopes for your class of assassins.
In fact, I was discussing my belief that y'all would get killy quickly and with grace with Mustache and lo and behold, merely 2 days and we have 7 kills...not as impressive as the pace in the last NYC game (12 kills in 2 days), but not bad for hippy Left Coasters...
Now, I don't usually count things (save for gold) as the counting of non-gold stuff is for poor people, so I consulted some poor people earlier today (I keep some on my staff so I can keep in touch with the "common" man) and they told me that "3" is a fairly impressive (albeit low) number when referring to kills made in a single day. I consulted one of my old diaries from my counting days and confirmed this...so...respect must be given to the current kill leaders, the cats that got 3 kills in one day - T34m 1337. Someone best get on killing them fairly quick - they're making the rest of you look bad.
Kill stories and such after the "jump"
Your daily kill stories
Zeno (1) waxed the ass (in a good way...kinda...I mean he was killed, but he wasn't fucked in the ass, so it probably didn't hurt as much...don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with ass-sex) of Gunner (0)
Target Eliminated: Gunner
Arrived at Target's domicile at 5:10pm for reconnaissance. Found no signs of occupation. Waited 45 minutes at bus stop on corner - too conspicuous. At approximately 6pm, the parking space in front of Target's front door was vacated, so operations were relocated here. After less than 30 minutes supine in vehicle's backseat, weapons at the ready, Target parked his vehicle in the garage and walked up towards his door, looking in each car as he passed. Face, meet liquid. Liquid, meet face.