Error de asignación

Our latest assignments in the service of El Angel are strange. Instead of being given a mark and told to kill them as usual, we have been paired off with members of the other team and told to compete for our kills. What purpose this serves in our service to El Angel de Muerta, I am not sure, but I am told he wishes us to prove our worth.

Which is why I am so ashamed to make this report. I was paired off with Fia, whose methods I have long thought were sinful and shameful, against the natural order of things. We both employed a disguise to reach our mark, a middle aged detective who'd started to look into the affairs of El Angel and had to be silenced. She got to him first.

When I approached them she'd already gained his trust, and it was not difficult for her to highlight me as a fake. I attacked her in my rage, dislocating her shoulder. The man attacked me and when that failed, he shot me. A simple wound, not much more than a graze, but she had won. I pretended to be unconcious while she killed him. No matter how blasphemous, it is not right that we should fight among our own any more than needed.

I failed my assignment. Senor Nueva Morningstar, many apologies.

Thanksgiving Break is Now Over

Right, so, I fucking love Thanksgiving. No work, all fucking week and plenty of food. Even that stick in the mud Morganstar decided to cut us some slack. Probably because he was too busy with that Goddamn Priest's Corpse. Doing Slender Man knows WHAT to it in that room of his. The Goddamn Weirdo. So, I'll bet you guys want to know what Proxies eat for Thanksgiving. I bet you are thinking "Eyeball Soup" or maybe delicious "Brain Pie." Well ladies and gentlemen. I am here to disappoint you. We ate Turkey, and stuffing and Mashed Potatoes. And Corn. Sinister, no? And then we ate Cake. DEVIL'S FOOD CAKE!!! OOOOOOOOOH. We are so Evil like that.
But now it is over. Gotta clean off the old chainsaw, apply my makeup and put on my floppy shoes. Der Fuhrer tells me we have new assignments, that will likely bring us in to conflict with the Baker Street Proxies. You know. The Feminazi, the Samurai Wannabe, the Asshole, the OTHER Asshole and Fia. Not a big fan. Bad news is, we have Four Assignments. And there are Five of us. This means we get to solo it and deal with the competition at the same time. Fun, fun, fun. I really am in a good mood today.
I got MY assignment. Simply perfect: A Little Girl who is suffering from Coulrophobia. Fear of MOTHERFUCKING CLOWNS. THERE IS NO GODDAMN REASON FOR THIS PHOBIA TO EXIST. WE ARE NOT FUCKING SCARY, WE TRAIN NIGHT AND DAY TO MAKE YOU INSENSITIVE JACKASSES LAUGH. But I digress. I will enjoy this.
OH before I forget, this message was made exactly EIGHT HOURS before it is scheduled to go up. Early Bird Gets the Worm. SEE YOU AT THE KILL ZONE BAKER STREET BITCH.
<3 Gleeman.

Delay

I suppose we ought to explain our five day hiatus. For starters, we had an unexpected guest. My predecessor's nemesis arrived and destroyed six vials of holy ambrosia given by the Great Redlight. It is an unfortunate loss, but three vials remain. Safely hidden for future use. The Blasphemer also sent armed men after us. Needless to say, we sent their souls to Hell. We had hoped to interrogate one of the soldiers, but he seemed to have a cyanide capsule hidden in a false tooth. Regrettable, but irrelevant. We shall have vengeance on Dwyer soon enough. He cannot escape God's Wrath forever.
We were also given a mission alongside Baker Squad, by our glorious handlers: Valtiel and Writer. We are to investigate the deaths of several of our brothers and sisters, who were gunned down by an obviously skilled assassin. The manner of their deaths implies that it is the same shooter that slew all of them. While I doubt Joseph's squad of amateurs and psychopaths will be of much assistance, I welcome them as bullet sponges to soak up the assassin's shots, when and if we locate him. God willing, we will prevail and send his soul to everlasting damnation in the abyss.
P.S. Joseph, please refrain from mentioning my appearance in your poorly thought out and overly revealing posts. You do not see me taking away your advantages, do you?

Vengeance

I admit, I saved a rather weak target for myself. But not because it is weak. It is because it is a very personal target for me: a Priest. His name is Alex Abernathy. I say "Is", because I am not yet finished with him, nor will I be for quite some time. He will know my hatred. He will spend the last minutes of his life in the haze between pleasure and pain, as I did for many years.
I entered the Church that Father Abernathy served his false God in, shortly after the crowds had left. He was clearly affected by Father's presence, as he was praying for deliverance from his tormentor. His words were a blasphemy against the true God, and I felt a dark anger within me as I listened. His prayers were met by silence, and I heard him begin to weep quietly before going silent once more, staring at the meaningless symbol before him. The silence was then filled with the sounds of my footsteps, walking towards the heretic. He turned to me with a look of what might have been embarrassment. I applied a blood choke, and dragged him to my vehicle, placing him within the darkness of the trunk. Since then, I have placed him in my quarters. Alone, in darkness and in silence. The room is sound-proof of course. I wish to take my time with this one. I shall show him God, and lay God's vengeance upon him.

Karma

I, Crouching Tiger, have a tale to tell.

My report is finished and shall be turned in shortly to our New Morningstar shortly, however, I shall relate here in a more different manner the events which transpired on November 9th. There are some elements to this story which I feel are important to relay to the general public, which cannot be included in my report.

So listen, and listen well. For Crouching Tiger has a tale to tell, and it is not a pretty one.

Assignments very rarely come at such a time when I am ready, as was the case with this most recent mission. I was in my study, meditating, incense burning. The smell wafted beautifully throughout the room, but I could feel by the currents of the air that someone had entered without opening my eyes. When I did I found our Leader, the Great Morningstar, standing before me. He informed me of my duties and I moved at once to complete the task.

I was assigned to kill one of the people you call a "Runner"; whom I call unclean. The subject of my tracking in question was a large man, approximately 29 years of age, with dark skin and an unkempt face. Possibly Arabic, although upon later examination of his corpse I found him to be in possession of some amount of African features. And yes, I did take care of my mark and kill the man.

I follow him for some time before discovering that he is aware of my tracking. This reveal to me, I wasted no time in going in for the kill. He and I struggled a bit, as he proved to be quite the fighter, given his size. We were evenly matched for some time, and he managed to handle several of my personal favorite techniques; his neck remained undaunted by my repeated attempts to snap it, his legs unbuckled by my blows to the knees, and his arms unbroken by my assault on his shoulders.*

Finally, however, I applied a certain charm to each and every pressure point in his body, and that seemed to do the trick. Our altercation took place in a shady part of the town we were in at the time, late at night, and I had no trouble removing the body from the area without being seen so as to give it a more proper burial in the country side. Such a worthy foe deserved as much.

That said, mission accomplished. I'll await further orders from our new leader, who, while differing from the first Morningstar in method and attitude, certainly carries the title with dignity and glory. Our Father be pleased with our work. Karma has struck a fierce blow yet again.

*I have attempted here to refrain from my usual habits of naming each attack...our new Leader would be less than pleased if I were to do so, for he is...less than lenient in the matter than our first Morningstar...

Red Tide

I noticed that neither Jack nor Recluse really gave an introduction. For those of you ignorant of us, we are the... Surviving... Team members that the original Morningstar (God rest that boy's soul) worked with. My Chosen name is GLEEMAN. I am an Ex-Clown. I went to children's parties. I performed in a Circus. I was briefly a Rodeo Clown. AND I AM FUCKING PISSED. Do ANY of you know what it is LIKE to be LAUGHED AT DAY IN AND DAY OUT for going through HUMILIATION AFTER HUMILIATION. And the people that don't find me funny think I am John Motherfucking GACY. I am NOT a Monster, I am NOT a goddamn PUNCHING BAG. I am a Human BEING. I have FEELINGS. But you know what? NOT ONE OF YOU BASTARDS GIVES A SHIT. So why should I? But I swear to God, Allah, Shiva, Odin, Zeus, Slender Man and L. Ron Hubbard HIMSELF that if any of you worthless pieces of shit claims to hate clowns, and does not have a LEGITIMATE GODDAMN REASON I will make Gacy look like Ronald FUCKING McDonald. The last sound you hear will be my high-off-of-helium laughter, echoing in your head as you breath your final breath of air...
And that is who I am :D
So, my mission for the day is to murder a Teenager. Seventeen year old punk surfer guy. I hate kids I HATE THEM SO MUCH... With their slimy mucus covered fingers and their snotty noses and annoying ass laughter and always asking me for FUCKING BALLOON ANIMALS, WELL I WILL GIVE YOU LITTLE SHITS BALLOON ANIMALS: FUCKING BALLOON ANACONDA WITH CLOWN ASSISTED KUNG FU GRIP. Fits nicely around their little NECKS.
But I digress.
Hunting a new target is always a different experience. Our orders are so... Random seeming sometimes. We have been brought in to kill people who have been stalked for YEARS, and we have been sent to kill people who might have seen Faceless Father maybe once. And everywhere in between. Why don't we just kill them after a certain point of time? Why the randomness? But randomness is part of the game isn't it? We cannot expect Daddy dearest to be predictable. He is a thing of CHAOS, isn't he?
But I digress further.
Surfer Dude, real name is... Marcus or something (I call him "Dude"), has been stalked for about 2 Weeks. He is just reaching the breaking point, and our intel suggested he might do something to try and relax himself. SURFING obviously. So, when he was spotted leaving his home, I went to a likely spot on the beach, and waited, in the water.... On my fabulous surf board. Dude entered the water... AND THE SHOW BEGAN. Riding a Large Wave, I came upon him, juggling the knives that would, in mere moments, be embedded into his chest. I think the sight of a Clown riding a surf board while juggling knives surprised him. He wasn't shark food yet though, hilarious though it might be. I had to steal a boat to throw him further off into the water. THEN he became shark food.
Hey, Morningstar, aren't we... You know... Supposed to be in competition with some other team? Have they even killed anyone yet? I mean. The competition began only a few days ago. And we have three kills to their.... One? Do we need to wait for them to catch up? It doesn't seem FAIR to me. Like. At all.

Rip & Tear

Beautifulith Women roamingation the streetseth at nighteth are suchith WONDERFULITH victimseth. Theyeth surelyith cannotith believeith themselvesith safeith from all harmification, beingith defendeded only by the veilith of nightith. Littleith do theyith suspectith the handsomeith, wellith dressed individualith who approacheths themith with a smileith is in factith the Greatith SIR JACK THE RIPPER.
So THEREITH aye wasith... Stalkingith a prettyith golden haireded maidenith through the streetsith, until she stoppedth in frontith ofith a TASTELESSLYITH decomorrated motelith. I followed herith in... Slowlyith... CREEPINGITH... And she hadth enteredith a roomith. Room 124. Aye waitedeth a fewith minutesith beforeith knockingith on the doorith. Butith there was NO REPLY. DOST THOU KNOWETH HOW MUCH THAT PISSES ME OFF???
VERILY I SMASHEDITH DOWNITH THE ACCURSEDITH DOOR AND BEHELD A COUPLETH ENGAGEDITH IN FORINIFICATIONITH. WITHETH MINE BLADETH GLISTENINGITH IN THE MOONLIGHTEITHIFICATION I CHARGEDETH THE DUO. Secondseth latereth, there waseth a young lad laying, moaningeth on the floor, his genitalsith severedith and foreverith lodgedededed in the lasteth placeth they were... Placedeth. As for the faireth maidenith... I carvedith her chestith open, positionedith her bodyith in a beautifulith poseith. Frozenith forith eternityith. In the poseith, I choseith for her... Foreverith youngith, foreverith beautifulith.
SIR MORNINGSTAR, THIS BLOGGINGITH THINGITH IS MOSTITH AMUSINGITH. I shalt not hesitateith to posteth more of my fantastical murderesith onlineith for alleth to see and ENVY SIR JACK THE RIPPER!!!