After unsuccessfully staking out my hapless target six times in the last 2 days, the elusive austin Jean finally lies dead. In accomplishing this great feat I risked life and limb in the most literal sense of the word. My fruitful endeavors cost me the literal exposure of my bicep muscle and I have 23 stitches to show for it. After spying on my target throughout dinner (which was a nice roast beef and potato affair), I realized that he was about to make a break for it. I made like lightning and bolted out of my seat and darted after his running person. I pursued him accross the lush grass that separates the safety of his dorm and the neutral territory that is the caf, nearing him with every stride. Finally i was in range. I gave my weapon a mighty squeeze, beaming an arch of water at his back. Again I fired. I realzied he was nearing safety, as he approached the TWUSA office. I don’t know what happened next. I slipped on the confounded mud, but staying upright, I shot my target and promptly smashed right through the glass window with my outstretched right arm. The glass sliced my upper arm, exposing my muscle to the open air, heavy with mustard gas (alright, the mustard gas is a lie). I stared at my wound, in utter shock, but, arranging my priorities, I confirmed that I had killed my target. The response was affirmative. I realized it was now appropriate to collapse on the ground. I collapsed on the ground. I hyperventilated. I was rushed to the hospital and 23 stitches later I’m fully repaired and back in the game. Watch out, Ketchum’s about.

It was a sneaky kill. I decieved the target into trusting me. I chased him and shot him in the torso, and blood spilled all over the sidewalk, forming the letters “MISTRUST” on the pathway.