CrazyPieMaster

Day 1 of my mission is over. Another 3 or so to go. Too bad it'll be going on while my birthday is happening, such a shame. But what does someone like me care? No one really would come anyways, as I have no friends. I am an enigma. Yet I'm sitting here with my M95 rifle with a 12X scope, sitting on a rock next to a tree, about to save those people who don't know me from danger. I'm waiting for a "friend" to come by. His name is Andrew Scalowitz, and one of my bullets wants to meet him.  and he is going to die. By the way, did I mention I have a renewal exam to take to stay in active duty? No? Well I do. Oh, there's a convoy of Russians, shoul

I hate these jobs, those loyalists can hang themselves. Infantry, bah! I'm an artist, an assassin, I don't run around engaging in huge firefights! IRON needs to pay me double for this. Not that it's bad, mind you. I can do this easily, as these pitiful "soldiers" only THINK they can fight. It's just insulting to my abilities. I'm used to spending days at a time, gathering intel on my target, sleeping in a hotel's venting system, even sitting on a chandalier for hours, readying for the perfect shot. Here, all I do is look at them, fire, and dodge bullets! The indignity of it all! And for some reason, I'm craving spaghetti, which is odd because

The briefing went well, Phoenix though as he went through the doorway to the Transportation area. I've learned that my target loves music, and that he also wants to be wherever happiness is. Too bad he has a habit of going to that Romanian bar on 17th street. I was told he only speaks Spanish, so it's good I've taken a few courses in it. He has certain code words to recognize fellow operatives, which I've gleaned from a...reluctant source. I've done the math, figured out how and when I will need to push the button that will cause an "accidental" falling of the chandelier above his favourite table. His normal order, of course, will be posioned