Your Killsquad Failed to Kill us. Send a Maniac to catch a maniac. Clever, but I think we all know who would win in a crazy contest here. You need to understand something here. That entire squad was wiped out. Dead. Left the bodies in pools of their own blood. The entire squad, except one lone Sniper type. I believe he identified himself as "Vulture," which is highly appropriate considering what will feasting on his entrails by this time tomorrow.
I have been torturing Vulture for the past 48 Hours using every method I know of. He told me quite a bit, for example... The Name of his Handler. Her Location. Appearance. Personality. Shoe Size. Opinions of her. And More. By the time this post goes up, Tiger and Recluse will have already acquired this Handler. Then I am going to spend another 48 Hours Torturing her for information on which Highest passed down the assassination Orders. Then I will pay you a visit. Then, I will make you hurt. I will make you hurt badly.
You see, your little Killsquad wounded a Good Friend of Mine, Agent Gleeman. Why? Because he joined me in deciding that we were better off as Independent Agents, serving the same God. Because we defied you. You who are little more than a suppliers of Money and Resources. You forget that, as do we sometimes. You are not our Superiors, you just happen to have access to resources that we can better put to use than you. Bloated Bankers, Corrupt Businessmen, Corporate Executives and Officers. Serving the God whose followers include Psychopaths, Cultists, Serial Murderers, Monsters and Rapists. As I am in the second Group, allow me to speak for them: They do not serve You, we serve Him. You supply us with money and weapons, and we do the killing that you are incapable of doing. I bet most of you Highers have never even touched a Gun. Never spilled Human Blood. So you gave us the means to do so. You Help Us, We do your Job for you. Pick up your slack. But just because you put food on our tables and keep us out of Government Hands, does not mean we serve You. We are all too willing to lay down our lives for our God. For Him. If he needs us and we are in Prison serving a life sentence, do you really think the Prison can stop him from using us? No. You are a convenience. A crutch to them. They don't need you to serve Him.
Yet despite this, here you are. Attempting to Govern us. Worse yet, you interfere with us. Out of petty SPITE. Do you think yourselves as Popes for Him? Do you believe that they will blindly follow orders just because you order it? Even if you claimed it was passed down from our Mighty Father himself, do you think they would believe it? For an instant? And in the event that they do not follow your orders, you think you can "excommunicate" them? Brand them traitors to their Faith? To their God? Fools. Arrogant Fools. You are attempting to set yourselves above Him, and you risk the wrath of Him and his Angels. You have wounded and nearly killed one of His Devout worshipers. Do you think we will stand for this? Sit Idle and watch you undermine all that we have spent decades creating?
You know us well. The Amber Eyed Chaos. A Scarlet Blizzard. A Gray Walker in the Rains. But it is Blue that shall be the color of your doom. An Angel wreathed in crackling light, blade in hand to offer your blood to Our God. My Father. This Boy shall be the unwitting instrument of your doom, played by my hand. The hand of Ramael, Attendant of God and his loyal son. Not even Kazbiel will be able to stay my wrath and punishment. Nor will Kazbiel be permitted to interfere with The Attendant's Designs, despite his hold over the boy. Pray now for silent death, for the end shall not be swift for the greatest of sinners to be punished.
I... Think I lost my train of thought there. My Point is, I will make you suffer for harming my friend. Vulture was evidently a Veteran Agent of Six Years. Battle Scarred and battle hardened. He lasted nearly 48 Hours in a state of agony. I made every second a living hell, and I broke him. How long do you think you will last? How many fingers will be broken before you break. Compared to Vulture, you all are Pillsbury fucking Doughboys. Yet, I will find a way to make you last 48 Hours. You will not die until I allow it.
On this, you have my word.