The wretched life

While unfruitfully staking out the home of my target this morning, I received a text message from cjc notifying me that she'd finally been gunned (squirted) down by her assassin. She was 29 years old. She had only a couple hours left in town before hopping a flight to safety for the weekend. Details are sketch, but I believe it may have been the dude I thought it was going to be, which offers no consolation to either of us, I'm sure.

I have over a week to get my current target, but I really don't want it to take that long. I'd like to take him down and move on. I'm sick of his stupid house. I did some internet sleuthing on him today. I was able to figure out his wife's name, his daughter's name, find pictures of them, and find web presences of both of his brothers. I found out that one of his brothers is a product manager at Microsoft and even what group he's in.

I had someone at Microsoft find him in the directory and get me his email address. I made myself a fake Yahoo account and emailed him the following:

Hello Michael. I hope you're the person I'm looking for. If you have a brother in San Francisco named Brian, then you are.

You probably know that your brother is involved in a game called Streetwars (http://streetwars.net). He became my assignment a few days ago when I assassinated the leader of a team assigned to him.

I've tried, unsuccessfully to find and moisten your beloved brother. I have friends at his work who haven't seen him. I think he may be hiding under his bed. I'm beginning to run out of ideas.

This is where you come in. If you're like most brothers, you revel in the thought of selling out your sibling and watching him suffer. You take pleasure in participating in your brother's demise.

If you're not that kind of brother, then I'm barking up the wrong tree. You can stop reading and call Brian up and tell him he's pretty good at this, so far.

However, if you'd like to help, then what I need is information. All I know about Brian is where he lives and where he works. From his website I gather that his wife is Yen and his daughter is Audrey. They're both adorable and I'd hate to spook them by ringing his doorbell at odd hours, but we'll have to see where desperation takes me. The only other thing I know about Brian is that he is also under obligation to get out and hunt his target. What I'm looking for is other stuff that I might be able to catch him at. Does he go to concerts? Does he go to a particular church every Sunday? Is there a particular burrito joint he eats at on Fridays?

Help me out, Mike, and I'll reward however I can. I can see you're a fellow Pixies fan and I'd be willing to kick you a copies of my CDs of a few shows from the recent Coachella warm-up tour, or perhaps something from the McSweeney's owned pirate supply store here in San Francisco (yes, I've had to do a little research on you as well). I do make it up to Seattle quite often for my job and to visit friends, so I'd be more than happy to buy you a few beers for your trouble as well.

Thanks for your time, Mike. Let me know if you want to see your brother go down in a watery blast of goodness. I'd be happy to photograph it for your family archives.

S.

It may or may not work... who knows? It's one more arrow in my really light quiver. It'd be a pretty cool way to smoke the guy too.

"Dude. Your brother sold you out."

Wish me luck!

Twins? FUCK.

You should know better. People don't sell out their twin brothers.

Congratulations on your first kill. I'm not in hiding; I've been busy
hunting my own prey.

See you on the streets,
Bri

My response:

Damn. Worth a shot though - my sister would totally have sold me out. Twins... crap.

Alas, now I will have to just wet you and THEN go to Seattle and wet your brother. That's how I roll.

Enjoy your weekend. Should be nice out. Why not leave the windows open and get some fresh air?

The weekend is here, people. People have until Sunday night to make their first assassination attempt. I have still not seen my killer(s).

Casey said it best:

Wait. I can't remember what she said, actually, but it was something along the lines of, "It feels strangely ironic feeling paranoid but knowing someone really *is* after me."

Between hunting my guy and watching my ass, there's a lot to keep track of. Lotta strands in Duder's head. Fortunately, I'm sticking to a strict drug regimen so I can keep my head clear. -ish.

Anyway, I'm not going out of the house tonight.