Damn. I’ve got to stop eating Mexican before covert missions.

It’s been a year and a half since I last picked up Splinter Cell. Poor Sam had been crouching in that oil rig pipe for a long time.

After about a half hour of re-aquainting myself with the means and the methods of the game I proceeded to successfully follow the man with the breifcase and eventually elbow him in the head so as to aquire said breifcase. Along the way I did what I could to keep America safe from Communist influences:

On my way back to base my dumb ass daughter got kidnapped. No time for that now, I’ve got a CIA leak to investigate! Besides, she’s a little whiny and what with the cost of college these days…

I infiltrated the CIA headquarters through the AC vent. Some joker forgot to line three feet of the fence with razor wire. I’ve got to remind myself to give that guy a good elbowing.

After mamby-pambying about in the shadows and elbowing many, many guards and technicians in the head, I infiltrated the main server and discovered who the leak was. Some fat hobo with a nicotine habit thinks he can heavy pet the enemy without getting elbowed? Not on my watch. I waited until that fat hack went to suck another cig and gave him the old one-two elbow. Now the chief tells me I have to carry his fat ass all the way downstairs to the truck outside? Why should I suffer for his donut abuse? Can’t I just take his head to the truck? Don’t we have this technology by now? Jesus Fucking Christ! I’ve got a million dollars worth of military hoo-ha’s on me and none of it can be used to keep heads alive? Why do I even have this shit when all I ever need are my trusty elbows and my jar of Bigatti elbow cream?

Fat guys give off more heat