free as air

Things have been quiet lately.

Aside from an office New Year's party that we're all preparing for, we've all been laying low since the last assignment. I have had a few visitors from day to day (including a particular David Banks, but that was before the hols), and aside from that, it's been rather uneventful.

I've taken to going on walks, blending in with the population. Sometimes London, sometimes New York, sometimes Brisbane, sometimes anywhere and everywhere in-between. It's... nicer where it isn't cold.

(I don't get paid a whole lot; the damage we do, the damage-control I arrange, it all comes out of my pay. And my pay has been... put into other things lately.)

And that's how I found myself walking down the frigid street, snow floating down from the cloudy, dark sky as if just to smite me and my worn coat, shabby slacks, and downright pathetic trainers, equally threadbare rucksack in tow.

... We never had a lot when I was a kid, but we had enough. Always got some candy and a book; even if it was second hand. Have you ever read a second hand book? Mystery scrawling in the margins, folded, soft pages, waterspots and sometimes ash and burnmarks. A new book may be crisp and fresh, but an old one tells a story unto itself.

I digress.

The streetposts acted like sunspots, almost blinding me whenever I walked under them, ice crackling underfoot almost like broken glass.

And who would I find but a rather... humorous fellow? Nice guy. Gave me... supplies. Coffee Beans, actually.

Incidentally, current residents of the Baker Street Cafe, this was the origin of your mysterious gag presents. Admit it, Nat, the book of relationship advice was funny. Fia, sometimes you could find some use of that chastity belt. Photo, I'm sure you can find some use of that lump of coal, and Ronin, that samurai helmet was downright impressive.

And I find myself in possession of a rather nice hat, which is nice considering my current lack of proper winter wear.

It's... we all have to look out for each other. The lot of us out here are, for the most part, just trying to survive.  We've got insane deadlines and assignments and psychotic superiors, but it's a job, and we'll all manage regardless if we all give each other a chance.

... And to all of you out there? Merry Christmas.

No harm in wishing you lot that.

Way Too Fucking Long

Holy fucking shit this competition stuff has to go. That was a waste of a week of my fucking life, thank you. At least I killed the assholes. Not that that's a fucking surprise. That Jack fucker can't even speak English properly, much less fucking kill people effectively.
Though the asshole did manage to get me injured. I couldn't walk for almost a week and I still beat him to the fucking kill.

The fucking rewind. We got assigned a pair of runners. I'm not sure what they did to be unlucky enough to get us on their cases, but it doesn't really fucking matter, does it? The boss wants them dead, so they die. I made it out to them quickly, found them on a rooftop and chatted them up. Played nice, pretended to be a fucking runner. There's two of them, I'd have to get them cornered if I didn't want to risk one of the fuckers getting away. It was... sickening. Absolutely sickening. They were fucking lovers or some shit, all sappy and romantic with each other. Enough to make me crave the kill even if I hadn't been assigned to them.

Romance is fucking disgusting. It's stupid, worthless, bullshit that will get you fucking killed! It's not some glorious high concept, it's a deplorable method of suicide! I hate romance and love and sex, it's worthless and if I had my way I would kill Every Last One who indulges in that crap. Makes me want to tear open their ribcages and vomit into them.

I digress. I'd tracked down these runners, we were getting cozy, when Jack the motherfucking wannabe ripper tracks us down and attacks /me/ like the idiot he is. I don't think the fucker even realized who I fucking am! He's completely useless in a real fight, the problems started when the runners decided to get involved to 'help' me. Fucking morons. Jack almost got in a lucky shot on the girl, so I had to step in to defend her-and he ended up slicing my side and knocking me off the roof a couple stories down onto the fire escape.
The lucky fuck managed to make me sprain my ankle rather badly.

I couldn't really get back up to them, I was lucky Jack's incompetant. As far as I can tell they slipped onto the fire escape which had big locking gates for some reason, and rushed down to me leaving him in the dust.

I had to play nice for a fucking week, because I couldn't fucking stand up, much less fight. They played nurse and took care of me, which was FUCKING HUMILIATING AS SHIT. I took GREAT PLEASURE in killing them. Decided to use a method I'd read about once-apparently assasins in Persia used to make a series of slices along major and minor veins, with the intent of keeping them alive and in pain for as long as possible. I hamstrung the man and made him watch me do this to the girl. To her credit, she lasted four hours. The man was horrified and sobbing, so I decided to first take his balls, give him a couple minor wounds, then force him to kill himself. With very little effort from me, I set it up to look like a murder-suicide. All I had to do was clean up the minor traces of my presence, then quietly leave before they were found.

Interference From A Beast

You DARE!? You bedraggled impudent disgusting idiotic excuse for a swordsman! You DARE not only to attempt to steal my honorable kill, but to actually STRIKE ME? Not that your attack did anything at all, but it stained my body with your filthy blade! You will suffer before you die, cretin! I will make certain of it!

ARGH. In accordance with orders, I competed with "Tiger", one of those "Knights of the Morning." Led by the shallow, unimaginative replacement for a foolish ingrate, this new Morningstar hadn't even the decency to find his own name, instead looting it from a corpse.

The target was one Jackson Cagle, one whose sanity had far since snapped from the inability to accept the order the Man brings. He fled into the forest, the fool. We Knights of His are all the more strong within them. I stalked towards my target and let out a battle cry, chasing after his fleeing form. When suddenly that animal struck me from the side like a coward, knocking me aside.

For several minutes the two of us ran side by side through the underbrush of the woods. I'll admit that he is quite strong to have kept up with me despite the difficult terrain. Finally I scaled a tree and launched myself off of it, tackling Cagle to the ground. A stab to his shoulder, before that IMBECILE Tiger knocked me off of him, and sliced me in the chest with his sword.

The wound was nothing, but it caught me by surprise. I fell behind. But a true Knight of His will never falter at such paltry distractions! I forced myself to my feet and charged forward. In the end, our swords struck Cagle at the same time. A draw. I was tempted to strike that animal for his insolence, but...With that wound, he would have a headstart. There would be time for another contest later.

And there will be, you understand, you miscreant from the jungle!? Never interfere with me again, or I will show you the power of the Red Knight!

(Honking)

Report begins

 .

Target, female, Caucasian, blonde hair, fair skin, blue eyes between ages of 7 and 8. Named Amelia Connors, hereafter 3149Q-A.

Began observation at 14:00 local time, observed that 3149Q would not return to Domicile until 16:30 local time, but both guardians were already present. Plan was formulated. Simple entrance through the rear door, closest to the stairs, enter 3149Q’s room, dispatch target, and then leave the premises via the window. 

Simple, effective.

 .

Equipment was assured to be in Proper Working Order beforehand. Entered the premises at 16:35. Rear door to the domicile was not Secure. Subject’s Guardians 3149Q-B and C were lax in their measures to protect themselves.

At approximately 16:36, a small explosion to the south of the Domicile alerted 3149Q-B and C, to my presence as they moved to investigate the source. Was forced to employ less subtle methods to subdue them, a small explosive device intended to blind and stun was deployed and 3149Q-B and C dispatched.

 .

To my misfortune, this alerted my competition. The clown arrived via the rear entrance I finished dispatching 3149Q-C with my knife. He fired some manner of sharp projectile Disguised as a novelty item at me. 3149Q-C’s body served as Adequate cover against the attack, at which point the clown had already moved towards our target. 

 .

3149Q-A proved more resourceful than her age might initially have suggested, having escaped via the window I had intended to make my exit from. The clown followed quickly, and apprehended 3149Q as she attempted to vault a two meter tall fence unsuccessfully. I had appropriated the sharp projectile Disguised as a novelty item, which as the clown proceeded to dispatch 3149Q-A, I struck him with. Repeatedly. In the head. I confess to a certain Satisfaction in doing so. While I cannot argue his efficiency, the clown is not subtle. And the Function of a clown is Not Aligned with it's Stated Purpose. Clowns are frightening to small children.

The clown retaliated. I am glad that my equipment was in Proper Working Order, or more severe wounds would have been sustained. The reinforcement to this vest was a useful addition to its Function, though it is no longer suitable for the purpose I had in mind for it. Incendiary damage to the fabric has left it less useful. Sustained several Minor lacerations to the right forearm, as a result of the clown’s knife. Burns to the left and right forearm as the result of an incendiary device masquerading as a novelty item. Negligible water damage to minor equipment was sustained in extinguishing the resultant conflagration.

 .

A formal note to the Disposal Squad, the clown has been thoroughly reprimanded for his less than subtle entrance. At least one domicile was in flames when I made my departure. I apologize for not disposing of 3149Q-B and C. However, I had affixed the clown to the ground by means of the aforementioned sharp projectile. Likely damage to the competition, minor puncture wound to the right foot, possible concussion as a result of blunt force applied to the head. Several lacerations, unsure of exact location or contact. Consider him dealt with.

 -

Summary: 3149Q-A: Dispatched by competition.

"A little drop of poison"

On these last assignments we were made to compete for our marks. This was a command from our superiors, which was not my place to question.

A note: Competition does not make my usual mode of work the best route. I will adapt as needed.

The mark I was assigned was one Derek Carson (6230E-B), un poliziotto (police officer?). He had been investigating into disappearances in the area and from what I was informed, was getting too close to things and a possible liability in revealing things to his superiors. He was looking into missing-persons cases on the... I believe the phrase is "on the side"?

I contacted him from a pay phone in the general area. I claimed to be a street child who had heard from a friend who had heard from a friend that he was looking for a child thief. I told him that I had information that might help him. I might be able to show him the location of one of the abductions. Things went as planned for a bit.

I disguised myself as what I had claimed to be, marking up my face and dirtying my hair and hands and I wore ragged clothing. I removed my cosmetics and made myself the part. I can look the needed part.

We met at one of those "fast food" burger restaurants that many seem to frequent so often in this country. I got some water, but he showed me a kindness and bought me a meal. The intention was kindness, I know this.

American food is disgusting.

I ate as the role decreed, though, and spoke with him I told him I could show him the location of a possible abduction. I acted small, terrified, and worried. I told him I had seen a man at the location. It was not overly hard to fool him. He was enthusiastic and saw what he wanted to see. He offered to protect me should something happen when I took him there.

I agreed. Signore Carson and I started away from the restaurant on foot, as I had told him that the location was not far. I led him along the road and, having scouted out the area earlier, I began to lead him to an abandoned place to finish the job.

This is where things went away from my plan. Una suora appeared from a side street as I led him down, claiming that she needed assistance. The sister nearly messed up my stride before I recognized her. Signora Recluse.

She attempted to draw Signore Carson away from me. She claimed that a girl she was watching had vanished. She claimed that there had been injuries. I defamed her to him. I called her a liar. He was indecisive. I said something which was needed to make Signora Recluse drop her role. I said words against Him, knowing that it would cause the likes of Signora Recluse to falter.

I was correct. She flew at me and attacked me, making her claims completely obvious as a lie as she shouted at me. She hurt me, though I have been hurt worse. I will have bruises and abrasions, and my right arm was dislocated. I did not drop my role, despite her obvious advantage in that fact. He shot Signora Recluse, causing her to fall and release me.

I scrambled away and let myself cry for him to see. After all, a young woman is allowed to cry when she has been attacked, and that is expected. Especially from a young woman acting as fearful as I had. Signore Carson knelt to assist me and check on me. I told him we were both liars, then had a knife out and slit his throat before he knew what had happened. He barely had time to swear at me as he fell. He bled out very quickly. His was an easier death than some.

He had called in the incident of Signora Recluse attacking me before he looked to me, so it was needful to leave hastily. I made sure that Signora Recluse would be able to depart and then did so, myself. "Joseph" was kind enough to fix my shoulder for me when I returned.

Signore Carson was a kind man. He looked at things too deeply. He wanted to help those he saw as innocent individuals. Some things are better left not pried at.