Posted 24 July 2009 - 06:30 PM
Posted 24 July 2009 - 06:33 PM
Posted 24 July 2009 - 10:38 PM
The Sultan RS is not an approved vehicle. It's too flashy and goofy-looking.
Posted 25 July 2009 - 01:43 PM Edited by Juhlerofdk, 26 July 2009 - 11:40 AM.
Cause of Death: Firetruck explosion
Debriefing: Got out of my bed, got into my black Cavalcade and started driving towards Tudor firedepartment.. Called Packie for some explosives, went to Acter to get the bomb he had left there for me.. Drove down to Tudor and planeted the bomb under a firetruck without being seen by any firemen.. got out safe to the other side and called 9113 and had them sent a Firetruck.. The firemen rushed to the truck and as they got near it, I called Packie to let hell loose apon them...
Target: Daniel Thomsen, lawyer
Location: Around Middel Park.
Mr. Thomsen is a man in his prime, who walks through Middel Park every day to get to work (as well as home from work).. My friend is going to court tomorrow and Mr. Thomsen is trying to get him in jail for 15 years.. You will find Mr. Thomsen by these looks:
He wears a blue jacket (perseus like jacket but in blue), blue pants to match.. Black shoes, blue eyes and light brown hair...
Assignment: Get Daniel Thomsen to follow you down to the toilets in Middel Park and then beat him to death with your fists.. make sure that no one sees you..
Payment: 8000$. It will be wired to your account when the job is complete.
Posted 25 July 2009 - 03:14 PM
Posted 26 July 2009 - 05:59 PM Edited by Jean Capel, 26 July 2009 - 08:06 PM.
Brothers, brothers, I pray you will all be at ease to know my safety. My various nemesis have hunted me ever since the rather violent assassination of our debt-owing street racer. I attracted too much attention on that operation, so much so that I was forced into hiding if I was to survive. As such, I went underground, I wished not to endanger the organization we've worked so hard to build for my life, therafore, I requested no aid. Needless to say, my enemies have been persuaded to let things lie, for now, anyway. Now, hear my words, for I bring a tale of a death on my verbal monsoon.
Target: Daniel Thomsen
Liberty city's Middle Park, like MacArthur park of Los Angeles, is at night, filled with the degenerates that flood this god forsaken city. They haven't the spine to show themselves during the day, and so they pusillanimously stain the alleged beauty of the park at night, cracking the gilding on the facade that is liberty city, revealing the rot underneath. As much as I try to avoid the so called 'upper class' area, filled with winos and drug pushers, the paycheck voids all.
Once I was informed of the contract out on Daniel Thomsen, as well as the conditions, I prepared myself for the job ahead. I'd ascertained a safe house, of which I alone am aware of the location, as well as a few resources. Being low profile in essence, but needing to blend in, I had the foresight to acquisition a new wardrobe. After my anonymous shopping, paid for in cash, with my face obscured as best it could be, I went home, as I'd already quietly acquired the merchandise I would need for this assignment. I set the 10 gauge over and under shotgun trap on my door, it was simple enough to arm and disarm. I used slug, as over penetration was not a concern for me, considering the locale I inhabited.
I make it a point to be able to change my body's natural clock, however, I also make it a point to have a schedule, so I try not to take jobs that will stop my from arriving at my home at my intended time. I set out my clothing, and packed my briefcase, and finally set my alarm clock, before dozing off for a rest. I awoke at 2:00 local time, I showered, had breakfast, and readied myself for the rapidly approaching time. My dress was fashionable, but practical. A black leather jacket, due to the season, some durable jeans, for running and practicality. Some sports shoes that would acceptable for business, and the trademark sunglasses. I removed some leather 'sappers', leather gloves with lead cushioned around the knuckles, and put them on, as they served a dual purpose. I removed a concealable Sig P229 .40 S&W from the case, and inserted it into my right ankle holster. Even though the job specified for a beating, and even though this man was a 'rich boy', I knew little about him, and so I made sure to be prepared.
The affluent are flashy, and in Middle Park during the day, it's usually the affluent. In a situation where everyone drives a sports car, driving a beat up VW will only garner attention, something I wanted to avoid. So, I took a car I'd recently purchased, a vintage 1972 Super Bee, a golden paint job, with a black stripe down the middle. I arrived at the park around 4:00 local time, and parked my car in an alley way just outside of the closest Perseus, I slipped the security guard inside a C-note, to ensure he'd watch my car. I wasn't concerned, but it never hurts to be prepared.
I was inside the park at 4:15. I did surveillance, watched my surroundings, checked for anyone who might have tailed me to the park. All I saw were the previously mentioned scum of the acid-washed slum we call Liberty City. I was solicited by a drug dealer, after denying his services, he was beaten to death by several winos turned junkies. They'd run into him, he swung first, and he lost, C'est La Vie.
By 6:00 AM local time, most of the winos and dealers were cleared out of Middle Park, leaving only their stink of urine and stale alcohol behind, it made me sick. Other then that, nothing eventful happened, a police officer passed by, an African American fanatic preached his insanity, and the heart attack vendors continued to peddle their wares. Nothing worth mentioning happened...
...until the target arrived, apparently he'd hoped that one of the drug peddlers might still be around, as he was carrying a manila envelope. I approached him, and provoked his anger, he was already angry since he had to go to work and his fix was nowhere to be found, I just pushed him over the edge into complete irrationality. I made a few vulgar comments about his mother, something a typical Liberty City pedestrian would say. Then, I bumped into him, hard, as I pretended to leave the conversation. He didn't take this very well. I went to the restroom with no incident, but I knew he was following me.
When I entered the restroom, I took up a position at the urinal, pretending to be busy, waiting for him. He entered, and shouted some incomprehensible swear at me, and with a false bravado, uttered the lines, "Do you know who I am? at me, apparently hoping to bully me with his perceived power. Yes. I knew who he was, I answered, my ominous tone revealing my intent. I nonchalantly grabbed him by the throat and tossed him into the empty stall behind him. He stared at me incredulously, as if he had thought he'd been elevated to a state of deity-like power, using the law as a shield.
His mouth tried to form words, but his fear stopped him from uttering anything but an animal like moan. I entered the stall and hit him in the larynx with a knife-hand strike, he grabbed his throat. I quickly locked the door behind me, ensuring he would not be able to escape the claustrophobic space. I hit him in the face several times with my right hand, the lead connecting with the bridge of his nose the first time, then the sellion, and then anywhere I felt like. His face was a tormented mixture of relief, fear, anger, and pain, at this, I chuckled. I smashed the back of his head against the tile wall behind him. Then smashed it into the toilet's water container. At this point, he was semi-conscious, so I finally decided to show some mercy. I shoved his head into the toilet bowl for a good ten seconds, to ensure incapacitation, then snapped his neck with 66 pounds of pressure. I left the corpse inside the stall, took his wallet and identification as well as his manila envelope, it wasn't money, instead it'd been court documents which were the apparent reason for his killing.
I cleaned my face up a bit, and as my clothing was fine, I removed the gloves, and left the restrooms. I walked back to my car, only to find that it'd been stolen. I was angry, but I'd done the same in the first place, the only fee had been new license plates and papers, and those had been cheap, I'd filed off the vin number on the car myself. Upon requesting a return of my funds from the security guard inside, he laughed in my face and told me to leave. I didn't want to cause a scene, and so I'll be settling that score some other day.
I returned to my home, using the money from the victim to take a taxi to within a six block radius, I walked the rest of the way. Once returning to my glorious hovel, I set up my trap once more, ate, and now I am waiting for confirmation of payment and another task. I will leave you with a piece of knowledge I feel applies to our dead-ee
: "Whoever appeals to the law against his fellow man is either a fool or a coward. Whoever cannot take care of himself without police protection is both. It is as cowardly to betray an offender to justice, even though his offences be against yourself, as it is not to avenge an injury by violence. It is dastardly and contemptible in a wounded man to betray the name of his assailant, because if he recovers, he must naturally expect to take vengeance himself."
See you soon brothers.
Posted 26 July 2009 - 08:08 PM Edited by Tony B., 26 July 2009 - 10:14 PM.
Description:Yesterday, I was walking in Hove Beach, towards the Cabaret Club, named Perestroika.Upon arriving, I waited in the line, eager to enjoy a nice show, as my way of relaxing, plus the bartender there supplies me with information on certain targets that I seek. Upon arriving at the front of the line, I was frisked by the guard,, he didn't find any weapons on me, even though I was carrying an easy to conceal 38. Pistol just in case. He then told me that I wasn't allowed to go in, so I promptly asked him, "Why not?", he in turn called me a "Yankee bastard," and told me not to talk back to him or else, and then for now reason he took a swing at me. I, naturally, took a swing back, he took a few hits, but the uppercut to the jaw put him out for about 2 hours. While I was about to walk into the club, a Russian man ran up to me and stabbed me in the back. I fell to the ground, clutching my wound, and getting a quick glimpse at the man. He was in his late 20's early 30's, black hair, wearing a black leather jacket and red turtleneck underneath, black pants, and dark brown or black shoes. I woke up in the hospital the next day, the nurse told me I had taken quite a blow from the knife, and that I was lucky to be alive. If it had been a millimeter to the right, I would of been dead, since my spinal cord would of been severed. I will be out of commission for about a week, so I wont be able to take on any hits. But, I want one of my brothers to find the Russian mobster, and take him out the same way he tried to take out me. With a sharp knife.....
Payment:10,000 for description, 15,000 for description and pictures, and if you provide a video, 50,000. The money will be wired to your account.
Thank you brothers, if one of you chooses to take on the hit. I eagerly await my release from the hospital, so that I can continue my work, as an Algonquin Assassin.
Posted 26 July 2009 - 09:53 PM
Target: Anonymous Russian
Status: Deceased, very deceased.
Debfrief: I hopped on my PCJ-600and rode over to Peristroika's, hoping he had returned to survey the scene, or watch that idiot magician. Not seeing him outside I went in, luckilty the guard didnt search under my tie clip. I usually keep a small folding knife secured in it. Walking inside I looked through the seats, to anyone outside this organisation it would look as if I was simply searching for a good seat. Then I saw him, dressed in his usual attire, sitting nby the bar, without a care in the world. I calmly asked him, "Have you ever heard of someone named Tony B.?" He paled and started stammering out the word no, but i stopped him with a knife to his vocal chords, and left him there to bleed or suffocate todeath.
That man will bother noone anymore.
Posted 27 July 2009 - 09:36 AM
Posted 27 July 2009 - 03:35 PM
My apologies to all for not getting around to updating anything...I'll do it today, I super promise.
Posted 27 July 2009 - 05:32 PM
This man, this despicable man has killed one of by best friends, and one of my best info men. Take him out.
I have been watching him, and I know one thing that will help you my brothers, this man drives a Blue-bluegreen Bobcat. I want you to call of Patrick McRreary and tel him that you need a bomb for an old friend, when you find this guy, driving along, follow him until he stops them plant the bomb under his car, and blow it.
5,000 for the description, another 500 for every relevant picture you take, and 3000 for video of the explosion and car.
Posted 27 July 2009 - 10:44 PM
Target: 'Skeleton Bully"
Another contract completed, another paycheck received, and another step closer to my ultimate goal. However, before I delve into my details, I must make known my recent acquisitions I've made, using my previously acquired funds. I recently purchased some Military issue steel-toed combat boots from a surplus store, as well as a steel machete from the same store. I've acquired an AMT AutoMag .22 Magnum handgun, and several boxes of PMC Predator JHP ammunition, along with a few toys. I bought several bags of disposable 'Zip Cuffs', some head bags, as well as a BlackHawk III-A soft Ballistic Vest for limited small arms, and small caliber firearms protection. I also bought two new holsters, one under the shoulder holster for my AMT, and one for my new Kahr P380, which I purchased to compliment my P229 in my second ankle holster. After all my purchases, my entire paycheck, plus a little of my emergency funds, had been spent, so I needed a contract, and I needed it fast.
I surveyed my options, and I picked one, the so called 'Skeleton Bully'. Using a source of mine in the PD, I acquired his name and hangouts. Duane Marcus Johnson, would not live through the night. I strapped on my vest and holsters, gathered my firearms. My .40 caliber in the right ankle holster, my .380 in the left, and my .22 Magnum in the under the shoulder holster. I took a Stallion I'd borrowed and 'cleaned'. I took a ride to Algonquin, and I began to check the local spots. The movie theater was first, he was absent, he wasn't dealing at any local projects, and he was not at the burger shot. I checked the basketball court, and even the local ER, not to mention under the 'subway'.
After becoming irked by his abscence, I decided I would actually take the previously mentioned cesspool known as the subway home. I found him about to enter a train, I slipped into a maintenance closet and slipped on a balaclava. I casually approached him, with my hand in my open jacket, and stopped behind him. With lightning fast reflexes, my .22 Magnum was out and an inch away from his skull, I pulled the trigger and a mass of brain matter and blood splattered against the window of the train car, to the dismay of a passenger. I looked around, all the witnesses were obviously intimidated enough not to speak, and besides, what had they seen? They'd seen a man in a brown leather jacket, jeans, and a balaclava, shoot a young black male, an apparently common sight in Liberty City.
They say the MS13 never run from a crime scene, but always walk away. Well, they took that technique from me. I walked from the crime scene back to my car, and returned home, my job was done.
I may be requiring some assistance in the near future brothers, I would hope you'd have me as an ally. I will await payment and look for another contract to be fulfilled.
Posted 28 July 2009 - 12:36 AM
Target: Livietto Smifferno
Unfortunely his friends are still out there, altho he had a mafia bodyguard who had to go to protect my own life, I apologise for his death, but he was armed.
After I read about the contract I went to Little Italy on my black PMP 600 and I parked it on an alley, then I proceded to go around the block a few times to see if I could find him, due to no success I decided to take the car and do a few sweeps around the local area, but, to my surprise nobody matching with the description was there, so I parked the car again and decided to go around the block, I found him along with another man walking down the street, I decided to use my truthsworthy shotgun on his back, but the man took out a weapon and he went along his friend before he could shot at me, but it being a mafia neighborhood I took a picture of Livietto quickly, shot him again to make sure of the deed and run to my Shiny Black PMP, the cops showed up before I expected them, but my black Suit and Ski Mask protected my identity, I lost them near Star Junction and parked in an alley, after that I changed into some sport clothes and took the mask off, wich were hidden in a black briefcase full of used clothing under my seat and took off to my appartment.
This is the Picture of the victim:
Posted 28 July 2009 - 01:42 AM
Posted 28 July 2009 - 01:44 AM Edited by RabidusUnus, 28 July 2009 - 01:47 AM.
and as promised, a total of five thousand United States Dollars, have been wired to your offshore account.
Spend them wisely, and if you ever need an ally, i'm here.
|Become Packie's friend so you can use car bombs. Become Dwayne's friend so you can get backup. Take a car with a bomb under it to hove beach with backup. Park the car so it blocks off the sidewalk. Run away. Blow up the bomb. Shoot ugly russians. Soon there will be a gunfight between you, your backup, russian gangsters, more russian gangsters, and cops. I got like a 4 min. shootout without shooting any cops(my backup did tho)|
Could you use proper english please, this is a highly civilized organisatrion, not scum like those street gangs that speak like that.
Posted 28 July 2009 - 04:13 AM
I'm seeing some good work out of the lot of you, many of whom are new. Remember that all bounties received passes through the organization first, which skims some (well, most) of it to pay for weaponry, bribes, and so on.
Posted 28 July 2009 - 04:54 PM
And my brothers, stay safe, stay serene, and stay vigilant.
Posted 28 July 2009 - 09:51 PM Edited by El Zilcho, 28 July 2009 - 09:54 PM.
|QUOTE (OdDsOcK @ Jul 27 2009, 15:35)|
|Agreed El Zilcho. Where have you been?|
Sorry Oddsock, I've fallen behind and many real life commitments and various other things have slowed my progress here. I really want to try and return to active duty, maybe I'll do a hit tomorrow. It's good to be back though, I can see many others here have also taken absence. Well, I'll try and stick around this time! As mentioned before, I like seeing all the new faces.
Brother Rabidus, I realize you're settling in here snugly, but is there really any need to criticize others so harshly for there speech? You were just as new as those just weeks ago. Nevermind, just a kind reminder amongst Brothers.
Posted 30 July 2009 - 08:31 AM Edited by Jean Capel, 30 July 2009 - 08:40 AM.
Stage one: Preparation and Information
My brothers, I’ve decided to dip into my personal slush fund, as the purchases I’ll be making are expensive. I suppose eventually I’ll earn it back, but I don’t have the time to wait. So far, I’ve acquired a tactical apparel load-out, and several weapons, ranging from multiple sub-compact pistols and pocket pistols, to a shotgun and a few rifles, not to mention explosives and some specialty weapons. Some of these will be distributed to my operational support, some will be for usage, and some will be for home-defense, but all will be needed. As for apparel, I’ve bought primarily from ‘lifted’ BlackHawk surplus gear, ranging from a Level III-A soft ballistic vest, to a Universal Handgun cartridge belt, to #7 Waterproof Warrior Wear Boots, as well as tactical pants and some long and short sleeve base layer zip mock collar shirts. My previously acquired balaclava and sappers need go unmentioned, but I’ll mention them anyway.
Needless to say, these purchases have dipped into my funds a bit, but I will spare no expense in my goal, if all estimates are correct, I should have enough left over after this is all said and done to live off, with a steady flow of contracts, that is. My final purchase has been the most expensive, and the most necessary, for without it the entire plan would fail.
The final acquisition I’ve made has been vehicular, it is a large ‘mail van’ similar to the ones used by Res-Ex. I stole is from a local mailing company, and had to completely overhaul it for my purposes. I had to obtain bullet-resistant glass, and have it tinted black and have it inserted professional into the frames of the truck. I then had to replace the outer and inner layers of metal with a bullet-resistant metal similar to the kind used on N.O.O.S.E. trucks. I then bought a quantity of twenty Kevlar vests, to cover the inside of the back of the truck to their fullest. Once that was done, I had a few people who owed me favors insert a frame for a ‘cage’, between the seats and the back. It was mostly steel construction, with a door used to get between the front and the back. I added several locks to the doors, and used extensive testing to ensure it was at maximum strength, not that I had any concerns about the captive, however, I’m always well-prepared. Other then that, the two back doors have been welded together, and have had the locks changed to lock them from the outside, for extra security.
As I leave this message at our agreed drop, I and certain people with similar interests are preparing for OP: Modus Operandi. If all goes well, I’ll leave another message debriefing you on the details of the operation, and the next stage in the plan. If it doesn’t…then you’ll probably see an article about a failed terrorist attack in Algonquin.
Sinn Féin Brothers.
Posted 30 July 2009 - 01:29 PM
What could you do that would possibly need that much equipment and backup?
Also, if you need money, well, I'll always have a few problems.
Posted 30 July 2009 - 02:39 PM
Personal Contract: Modus Operandi
Stage 2: Apprehension, Interrogation, Execution.
I come bearing news brothers. Good or bad, it’s irrelevant, but news is what I bring. Before I indulge you on the details of this operation, I believe putting it into context would make things a lot easier to comprehend.
Several years ago, I worked for certain groups that had interests in keeping ‘equilibrium’, so to speak, in Liberty City. We didn’t influence things too overtly; instead we were like god, present everywhere, visible nowhere. We had allies in the highest and lowest offices in Liberty City; we made deals with murderers and drug dealers to make sure that whoever was in power was our puppet. For a while, our plan worked, we kept the violence to a safe minimum, civilian casualties were down, for the most part, Liberty City became a self-cleaning oven, so to speak. However, concentrated power has always been the enemy of liberty, in this case, that saying was literal. A point came, when a ‘restructurement’ of our organization was ordered. In spook speak, that meant massacre. All of our official and unofficial support was cut off, our field operative’s identities were revealed, and our handlers were killed. Few of us survived ‘The Purge’, as it is referred to now. However, a few of us managed to escape when the heat came around the corner, most of us forgot about what happened and moved on, I didn’t. This is not about revenge, this is about our original mission, maintaining the equilibrium, revenge is just a pleasant by-product of that. With that background in mind, let me walk you through the execution of stage two of Modus Operandi.
Like I said, I’d been preparing for this for quite some time. Gathering information mostly, figuring out who was dead, and who was turned. More importantly, I needed to find out who was at the bottom of the food chain, start at the bottom, and end up at the top. I contacted an old source, who still had a reasonable amount of information. At first he was resistant to biting the hand that fed him, however, I reminded him what else that hand had done, and he supplied me with a name and a route of travel.
Dexter Michael Cleaver, the last name was most definitively not a misnomer, he was a butcher. He’d been one of the field operatives involved in ‘The Purge’, and with the highest kill count, he’d been promoted to handling the new field operatives of the restructured organization. Although his safe house was unknown, his route of travel was not, he traveled in a convoy of civilian vehicles, usually SUVs, every night at around midnight to update his handler with status reports on the operatives. Even with his strange hours, he still managed to find bodyguards willing to accommodate his schedule. He usually passed through the Varsity Heights/Middle Park/North Holland intersection, and so we (my unnamed colleagues), planned accordingly.
We began preparation for the ambush at ten in the evening. We set up a sniper with an Enfield L42A1 rifle on the roof of the hospital, from there; he had a clear view of the intersection, and the street leading up to North Holland. We communicated via military quality radio, on a coded frequency. Once our marksman’s view was confirmed, we set up four men with automatic weaponry, hiding in the park. Equipped with Spectre submachine guns with fifty round magazines, they tucked them into their coats so as not to appear conspicuous, and pretended to be asleep, masquerading as winos, the perfect disguise.
As per plan, once the infantry unit and the marksmen were in position, the initial contact team and the extraction team prepared themselves. The initial contact team consisted of two men in a large SUV, one to drive, and one to sell the cover story. They parked a few blocks down from the parking lot on Middle Park’s main street. All they had to do was wait for the signal and be quick. As for the extraction team, that was me and two other men, one to drive, one to provide cover fire, and myself for the extraction, we used the prepared Res-Ex mail truck, and parked in the designated parking lot, a few blocks up from the initial extraction team’s spot. The ticket man was in a drunken slumber, he didn’t stir till the gunfire started.
At exactly 11:50, we were all completely prepared, we had all our gear strapped on, and our engines ready to go. I was in my full tactical load out, carrying a highly modified Fabarm Martial Pro Forces shotgun. As much as I wish I’d been carrying 12 gauge slugs, I was only using bean-bag rounds, a necessary sacrifice for this mission. At 12:05 exactly, the convoy came rolling right along headed straight for North Holland. The marksman, who also served as our scout, gave us all the heads up over the radio, and I directed the initial contact team to engage.
They took off speeding, swerving like drunken madmen, as that was the plan. They crashed into a taxi cab directly in front of the convoy, killing the driver, and incapacitating the driver of the SUV. As per plan, the marksman identified the target in the backseat of the second vehicle, while the second man in the initial contact team began apologizing furiously and explaining to the vehemently irked bodyguards. Unfortunately, the explanation wasn’t good enough, the guard pulled on my colleague and double-tapped his chest before he could make a move for his weapon, disarms were useless at that range.
I ordered that the blitzkrieg begin as soon as I heard the shots. The marksman took out the bodyguard, leaving a large hole in his chest, blood splattered the windshield of the first convoy car, as the other bodyguards attempted to get out and defend themselves. The infantry moved in and sprayed the car with automatic weapons fired, shattering glass, perforating flesh, muscle, and metal, leaving bullet holes everywhere. Rather then facing the same fate as the first men, the second car with our HPT attempted to escape. The marksman shot the driver, whose foot fell onto the gas, causing the car to speed into the already severely damaged first car. The two other bodyguards removed themselves from the vehicle, and attempted to defend themselves, as the HPT, still disoriented, ran from the car like a drunken coward. They fared a bit better, as I ordered my allies not to open fire, and allow the marksman to do his job. They obeyed and took cover behind the SUV of the initial contact team, as it was penetrated by small caliber weapons fire. A stray round hit the still unconscious driver, killing him, hopefully instantly.
As the marksman took out his targets, we sped onto the scene in the mail truck. We drove in front of the escaping target, and our spotter/cover fire man, noticed he was talking on a cell phone. The truck slowed a bit, and I jumped from the passenger door, rolling onto the ground. Dropping the cell phone and going into a crouch, our HPT removed a Glock from his jacket, and opened fire. I raised my shotgun, and was hit twice in the vest with 9mm rounds, neither penetrated. I fired, and hit him directly in the left shoulder with a beanbag round. He screamed in pain and dropped his weapon; I slung the shotgun over my shoulder and kicked him in the ribs, before incapacitating him with a swift blow from a truncheon to the head.
I carried the scumbag, and almost threw him into the back of the van, after lifting him in through the passenger side. I screamed over the radio for everyone to disperse, and as fast as we’d come, we were gone into the post-twilight of Liberty City. We’d paid a large amount for a bribe, and so police attention was not an issue. I solemnly said my goodbyes to my former colleagues, they expressed concern for my state of mind, and offered aid if I needed it. I denied them, but accepted secure contact numbers, and allowed them to return the equipment they’d use in the operation. Once that was done I dropped them off at local meeting points.
Now, with multiple casualties, and over one-hundred-thousand dollars spent, I have the key to open the first door in an elaborate maze. I sit here, waiting for my key to wake up before I begin. I will extract information, and it will be painful, but I leave the final decision to you brothers.
Should I end his miserable life? Or scar him, and let him walk the earth as the only man to bear my mark?
The choice is yours.
Posted 30 July 2009 - 03:58 PM
Kill him, if he lives, there's every chance he'll go straight to the authorities, he'll have police protection, and you'll be hunted.
You'll die, or be arrested, if not youll be on the run for the rest of your life. When yoiu are done with him, put a bulelt through his skull.
Posted 30 July 2009 - 07:59 PM
Posted 30 July 2009 - 08:01 PM
(What game type did you use?)
I'm afraid I'll have to refrain from sharing an opinion on what you wish to be guided into doing. As the leader of this organization I don't think I should take sides. Rather, my assassins -- you all -- work together well enough as it is, I am hardly necessary. All I hope is that whichever fate you choose for this man, it brings you what you're looking for.
Posted 30 July 2009 - 08:09 PM
It seems the vote is currently unanimous then. If you boys would like to see my handy work, go to the old sprunk factory in alderny, check for a corpse that's been thrown from the top of the building.
(Also, Oddsock, I'm offended, you don't recognize me....)
Posted 30 July 2009 - 09:25 PM
(I checked the databases, even the people I erased from it, and found no person named Shanks. Sorry, I wish you wouldn't be offended considering how many people pass through here usually. Even as I update the databases I come upon names that I remember anything about.)
Posted 30 July 2009 - 09:26 PM
Posted 31 July 2009 - 01:57 AM
|QUOTE (RabidusUnus @ Jul 22 2009, 16:05)|
| Will's blood has spilled now, my friend.|
Target: Will Jacobs
Debreif: I walked into the gun shop, looking for an AK47. After all, an assasin can't do much work without a gun, then I saw him.
Purple jacket, jeans, black beanie,and gloves. I knew it was him, so i purchased my AK47 and a few hundred rounds of ammunition. I pulled out my knife and stabbed him twice in the stomach. Writhing on the ground, I shot him once in each knee, 3 times in the stomach, 10 times in the head, reloaded, 2 in the neck, and one in the heart for good measure. I then ran outside as fast as I could when my shiny, black Sabre GT awaited me.
One of my anonymous contacts told me of a man muscling in on his "operation."
Appearance: Tall, african american, wearing a white jacket with a red skeleton emblazened on it, it couldve been red with a white skeleton, the contact wsa screaming with rage.
Location: Somewhere in the Middle Park area.
Extra Notes: There will probably be others in his gang around if he is, so be prepared for a shootout. On this mission I am allowing you to kill his allies if they present a threat, but no civilian or law enforcement casualties.
I was going to do this one myself, but i thout the creed could use some sport.
Good job. You are good at what you do. Now I can sell drugs problem free.
Posted 31 July 2009 - 03:40 AM
I am sorry brothers, but some things have turned up, I will not be able to continue my work as an Algonquin Assassin any longer. I can not risk endangering our organization, so I must leave, forever. This is Brother Tony, signing out..........
Posted 31 July 2009 - 04:54 AM
|QUOTE (Jean Capel @ Jul 30 2009, 16:26)|
|(Heh, I'm messing with you Oddsock. Shanks was my Alias, it's LoC ya dolt! )|
Ugh, Tony B., formally, it pains me to hear of such things, and informally, that sucks. I can only hope that whatever you've run into will eventually be resolved in a manner benefiting you...too young are your experiences here to stop so quickly.
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