|Hitman: Hand Of God
Author: craigbond007 PM
Sequel of sorts to Stirrings. May write a series if I get more reviews Please do not be offended by the religious stuff, just wanna tie in to Silent Assassin's religion storyRated: Fiction T - English - Words: 776 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 10-26-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3858063
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
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HAND OF GOD
Sequel to Stirrings
What is God?
Or, to rephrase the question, what is it like to be God?
And taketh away….
Of course, one man knows it all….
To protect someone on a mission….
And kill another on said mission….
.……. ………………………..….One might say he is the hands of the lord……………………………………………
Another lovely day, to be taken for granted, knowing he could be killed any minute, of every hour of every day.
Agent 47 took it in. The hot sun glaring off the hitman's bald head was sure to give a tan if he sat there any longer, not
to mention the heat of his expensive Italian suit he ALWAYS wore, he loosened his tie and undid the top button on his
dress shirt to let some air in. He moved over to a bench under a pine tree in Central Park, New York City. He was
enjoying some time off in the Big Apple, expecting another message from Diana. He watched silently as children
played, and dogs fetched Frisbees, until he felt something vibrate in his pocket. He pulled his cellphone out of his
pocket, and answered. "47," he said. "Hello, 47, Diana here. I have another contract for you. His name is
Mr. James C. Miller, a televangelist from northern Canada, visiting New York for a Christianity seminar at Madison
Square Garden. It seems Mr. Miller has been caught up in work involving our agency, and is looking for more info on
"the urban legend," or in easier terms, you. We cannot let this happen. If he finds out who you are, you and the agency
will be compromised. ""So," 47 said, "another hit sanctioned by the agency, and not by a client, I hope it's the last,
first, Padre Vittorio, and now another religious televangelist, seems like I was made to send the message of God." " I'm
sorry if this agency is causing you grief, 47, but it is of most importance," Diana replied. "I understand. Has my fee
been transferred?" 47 asked.
"Yes, and I've sent you more info on the hit to your cell. Good luck, 47, and stay safe."
"I intend to."
47 hung up, and pressed his text message button, and checked his mail.
Jonathan Clarence Miller
Profession: Religious televangelist.
Briefing: Miller has learned rumours of the International Contract Agency, and of one of our top hitmen, Mr. 47.
If this information gets out it could destroy the ICA forever. Intends to hide his revelations of his discoveries in a
religious message about "hands of god".
Threat Level: Low
Security: Two ARMED gunmen, usually carrying 9mm Walther P99 pistols. Minimal discretion is required.
CASH BOUNTY: $1 000 000 U.S. DOLLARS.
1. Miller's guards DO NOT patrol west wing of auditorium
2. There is a light control room on the top floor of the west wing
3. Best option would be a quick sniper routine.
47 entered Madison Square Garden with ease. His favourite rifle, the Walther WA2000, was packed in his foil-
padded case, going through Garden security metal detectors without suspicion. He made his way to an elevator and
pressed the button for the top floor. Inside with him was a bald young man, 20's , 47 suspected. "Hello," the man said.
"You wouldn't happen to be a chemotherapy patient, would you?" the man asked. "No, natural baldness," 47 replied.
The elevator got to the top floor. "Excuse me, I get off here,"47 said. "Good evening."
It didn't take 47 long to reach the light control room, and, surprisingly, no hassle. He unpacked the WA2000,
and assembled it and loaded the clip. As he took aim, Miller was on stage and his speech began. "Hello, everyone. I am
John Miller, and I'm here to talk to you about a dark and unholy presence on this earth. It seems, there are people out
there, who are the sons of Satan, but serving both the devil and the lord. Yes, brothers and sisters, they are a reality and
they are among us…"
A soft crack interrupted the speech. Miller went down in an instant, as if he went before the bullet hit. But it
surely did. There was a hole in the throat of the man lying there, and a crimson pool slowly filling. Yet everyone was
calm, no screaming, no rushing to the exit, just jaws agape at the sight of the blood.
The hitman left. The job was done.
It was good being the hand of God….