I stalked my prey, following him every night for weeks. On the beginning of the fourth week, I watched him enter a dive bar in the south side of town. The Rusty Tankard was the name of the building. I was familiar with the type that drank there. While I waited for him to emerge from the bar, I set up a small encampment. I pitched a tent, refocused my spotting scope, and carefully selected the tools I would need for this mission. After a few hours, my mark stumbled out into the dark.

Snow was just starting to coat the ground, and after a moment, his hair became covered in a fine layer of the powder. I quickly dropped a beacon, marking where my camp was, I would return to it soon. I followed him silently, keeping a safe distance of half a block. We walked this way for several blocks. He stumbled often, and I prayed he did not get arrested for public intoxication, as he was making a large commotion each time he almost fell. Eventually, he reached his car, as he failed to unlock the doors, I walked past, and stuck a tracker underneath his bumper. In his drunken state, I was positive he did not notice. I continued walking, until I reached the corner, where I turned, and waited for him to drive past. I slipped into my own vehicle, and sat patiently.

After a few more minutes, his car swerved by. I followed the car from a few blocks away. I had a tracker, and was in no rush. I quietly laughed to myself, he had no idea what he was in for. He drove for fifteen blocks then took a sharp right. I had planned this all out perfectly. I knew where he was headed. I had trailed him like this many times. He pulled into the driveway to his mansion. I parked a fair distance away, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I quickly and quietly made my way into his compound. I cut a hole in the fence surrounding the property, and with surgeon like precision, I evaded the perimeter guard and the search lights. The shipping building, where the exports were stored was only 50 meters to my right, and it laid virtually unprotected. My target, however, was in the main building on the property. It was nearly 200 meters to the front door.

I slithered through the tall grass, wearing all black except for my glasses. A dark red pair of sunglasses that shot invisible infrared lasers that detected any kind of weaponry, electronics, or explosives. While I crawled, I moved around several mines, and one or two small opossums. After what seemed like hours, I finally reached the building. I moved carefully around the back, and scaled a gutter. Once I had reached the roof of the house, I excavated a small hole in the roof. I dropped into the attic, and crept downstairs to the master bedroom of the home.

Once there, I began unloading my tools. A few large chains, a pair of pliers, and my favorite, a popsicle and blowtorch. I tied my marks feet to the chains, and the other end of the chains to a meat hook I placed in the ceiling. He was still asleep, so far so good. I left the room, snagging a key, and locking it on the way out. I slipped inside an empty room, and changed into a suit, the uniform of the servants here. Once I was changed, I visited the kitchen. I picked out a few beers, and a slab of uncooked steak. I brought this combination back to the room. Once inside, I re-locked the door, and activated the soundproofing that was built into the room. I hoisted the man, and flicked on the lights. He screamed for help, but no one could hear him now. I told him I was going to burn him with the blowtorch, I fired a small flame near his head to scare him. I told him he was not even going to feel it. I told him it would be cold, because his nerves would instantly die. Then, I told him he would smell the burning flesh. I lit the blowtorch, and held it against the steak behind him, while poking his back with the popsicle. He believed he was being tortured. He soon gave up the information I wanted.