Dear HQ...

I know we've been bad, bad agents. I know we've been posting late, or not at all during the holiday. But could you see your way clear to giving us just one more chance? Please? PLEASE take us back? I miss the thrill, the excitement! I miss the blood, the pain, the sweat. I miss being a secret agent. But most of all, HQ, I miss you.

Come on, agents, help me out here.

Case of the Ex.

So who knew my ex Tommy Rotten was playing for the Voodoo Crew now? Hint: not me. Had a run-in with him underwater and that was less than pleasant. He totally wasn't zombified when we were dating either. And Tommy Rotten isn't even his real name! His real name is--BEEP-BEEP! WE'RE SORRY, YOU HAVE BEEN DISCONNECTED. PLEASE TRY YOUR CALL AGAIN LATER.

Mission?

Whew! Thank goodness the zombie menace was stopped!

Major Tom is still in recovery. The specialists have reassured me his brain cravings shouldn't last much longer.

I know most of agents requested time off for the holidays, but we just got a special request and I'm hoping at least a few of you will be up for the challenge!

One Mr. S. Nicholas has asked that Ground Control send out a few agents to help buff up security at his factory up north. It's only seasonal help---he said the job would be done before the new year---but it sounds pretty important.

So if you're geared to go, remember to dress warm and bring some milk and cookies. (It's always good to impress the client, right?)

Mission Requirements: Santa needs help! Better dress the part and get ready to guard the toyshop! Mission is due before Jan. 1st!

Happy Hols, kids and kittens!
Molly Go-Lightly

Awkward...

Man, I totally take back all the bitching I did when we had to lug those file cabinets from Sub-Basement 32 all the way to floor 92 when the elevators were out last summer. They sure do make a good barricade in a pinch. Great at keeping mindless zombies at bay, but not related ones, it seems.

Bob and Jen stopped by to check out my place of employment three months after I first invited them, [with the exception of our parents, none of the clan's very timely.] Needless to say, it was awkward, and gave Bob a whole wealth of new material to tease me with for the months, [years,] to come. But then Bob and Jen got into the spirit of things and lent a hand, which was great since my boom-stick had just run out of ammo and I was down to just my trusty chainsaw.

Good times, good times.

Cut the Power

MISSION THREE!

... ... ... ...

Hello? Hello? Can you read me? This is Junior Agent Molly Go-Lightly! Please tell me I'm getting through this time...

This is an emergency message to all availiable agents! 10 days ago, the notorious rockstar gang, The Voodoo Crew, infiltrated Ground Control and put on an impromtu performance. Now, the building is swarming with undead! To make matters worse, their Zombie Curse is affecting everyone in the building. Major Tom was knocked unconcious, but I managed to grab him before the Crew turned him completely into one of their undead denizens. We're safe for now (I locked us in the ladies bathroom on the sixth floor...) but now we're trapped!

You must fight your way down to the control room in sub-basement 4! The Voodoo Crew is planning to broadcast their curse around the world via our satelite hookups! Unfortunately, the moment you enter the building, you'll also be affected. The only way to break the curse is to stop those jerks from singing!!!

Mission Objective: Agents must infiltrate Ground Control main headquarters and fight the zombie menace inside before they completely turn into mindless zombies! Documentation of mission should be our usual format and include the agent's name and the self central address. Mission 3 is due before December 1st.


What the?! How can the cell phone battery be out? I just recharged this...

... ... ... ... ...

Hey guys, I'm finally... Aw poop, all the baddies are dead already. :(

So, it turns out Hermanubis is as ODD as Hon. Agent Let's Go Ride Bikes, [but less ADD, thankfully.] I finally got him to listen to me, squeezed into my school uniform, [who knew those things were so ill-fitting?,] and busted my butt to get over to the school only to find ya'll had taken care of the situation already. And I left my derringers at home, to boot.

Not my month. D: