Day 6, 1702HRS
Standing sheepishly next to a smoking crater

Why is the free world concerned about questioning an arms dealer about one shoulder-mounted bazooka when I had to walk past THAT to get to him? Isn’t THAT a bigger issue? I took a chunk out of the world the size of a Tesco Extra! I single-handedly re-created the ending of Deep Impact!

This time Laurel and Hardy in the next room don’t snoop around. The door almost flies off its hinges as they storm in, firing wildly while bits of planet Earth fall around them in a gentle shower.

I slalom in and out of pillars separating me and Stan Laurel like a souped-up tricked-out Fiat Punto weaving between traffic cones before he gets a good biffing. Tell me that’s not a ‘biff’.

If that’s a ‘biff’ then Oliver gets a ‘bam’ as I Shoryuken him to fairy land. Good thing Jesus made our heads so firmly attached because otherwise Olly’s would have been in orbit.

Apparently there’s some heavy-duty bodyguards wedged between me and my hard-to-reach arms dealer. They’d better be super good, my handler wouldn't shut up about them even before I’d gone on my first mission. I waddle around the side of the room and spy a secluded balcony up a rickety ladder. Quickly ascending, I slink into the room beyond and pick up the briefcase within, and turn when I hear the door open again.

Someone must have seen me. To hell with it, I need a ‘pow’ to complete the set, anyway. He goes cartwheeling backwards, but now the whole room’s spotted me. I slide behind the brickwork at the edge of the balcony and see the guards take up positions. I’m in a jam, they’ve got me suppressed. Until, uh, until one decides to dash for the ladder and come say hello.

If you think these are too dark then, I assure you, it's a problem with your eyes.

Hello to you too. Upon seeing his chum knocked flat, another terrorist lets out a gargled cry and charges the ladder.

Your face? What about my poor knuckles, they've gone through hell today.

Having seen the fate that’s befallen his comrades, the final bodyguard stays in place, emptying rounds where he last saw me. I’m happy to let him expend ammunition while I work out how to best him.

But before I reach any final decision, he figures I’ve given up and… what? Teleported out? Quit the game? I don’t know, but he relaxes his shoulders and waltzes over to the balcony. Is he coming up the ladder? I think he’s coming up the ladder. I don’t believe it, the silly git’s coming up the ladder.

Down you go again. Talk about heavy-duty. They dropped like stones. Now then.

Wait, I know you, didn’t you play ‘Scary Arab #4’ in The Sum Of All Fears? What’s Ben Affleck really like? Never mind that, I win. Now for the part that pays the bills: this top secret spy agency is brought to you by ®.

Darn, make that fifty-one kills.

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