Urgent: Pray For Me, For Tomorrow I Test My Mettle

From the Desk of Leroy Babolian:

If this letter reaches you, it is likely that I am already dead. After careful deliberation, I have chosen the only operative in my stable of practitioners of the deadly arts capable of conducting the most daring mission yet planned in the history of the battle between good and evil: myself. Once again, I put myself in harm’s way, the ritual of taping my fists and feet for battle my only comfort in the face of almost certain annihilation. Despair not, though, dear friend, for though I may well die, I shall die executing my grandest design yet; a strike upon the rotten core of the forces of evil and iniquity in this world, a draining of the swamps of injustice in the name of the grasslands of righteousness.

Yes, my sweet compatriots, though there is no hope for me, I am undaunted. You see, in my training, I have subjugated fear completely, transforming it from enemy to ally like the pharaohs of Egypt’s land did so many crocodiles, pandas and lions. Fear is now a weapon in my scabbard, honed to a glistening sheen and beautiful in its lethal architectonics. I shall strike with both blades of my fearsome implement, fending off crashing tsunamis of feculent enmity with the twinned pair of strength and justice.

Tomorrow, at daybreak, I shall leave the sewers of this vulgar, sprawling megalopolis. By high noon, the combat prowess that I have spent so many countless hours honing will either have gained me entry into the hushed halls of insidious influence or failed me, leaving my broken, easily disposed-of body as the only testament to the great reserves of courage and self-sacrifice that drove me to attempt such a fool’s errand.

Wish me luck, dear chum, for I will need every ounce I can get.

Goodbye,

Leroy.