|Two of a Kind
Author: Liquid Ink PM
47 has someone interfering with him, in a good way. Still, its not his thing. Based on the games and set after Blood Money. My first Hitman fic so please be honest.Rated: Fiction T - English - Crime - Chapters: 3 - Words: 2,656 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 08-07-11 - Published: 01-07-10 - id: 5648228
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hitman franchise and I make no money from this piece of work. All original characters belong to Edios and IO Interactive and I use them completely without permission. No offense is meant by the use of a Church.
(Set just before contracts)
Two of a Kind
Agent 47 watched impassively through the scope as his target chased his three year old grandson around the garden. The afternoon sun beat down on the rocks where he lay, the edges shimmering with heat. The scent of laundry detergent rose from his suit as it warmed up on the baking stone. 47 didn't fidget nor twitch, instead waiting patiently for the games to finish and for the boy's nanny to come fetch him and take him inside.
As he watched the two play, a silent vibration came from the cell phone in his pocket. Without taking his eye from the sights, he touched the Bluetooth device in his ear and listened. An electronic voice read out a text message.
"You have been compromised. Leave the area at once, do not take your weapons as you will be searched, detection is inevitable. Move now!"
In one smooth motion he was on his feet and moving away from the villa. Nimbly slithering down the slope, he darted behind a stand of elm saplings as he heard several voices conversing in guttural Italian. From their tone, they were security and on high alert. As the voices drew abreast of him, he stepped out of the trees with the chauffeurs cap from his pocket now in his hands. Affecting a loud English accent, he called out to the patrol.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, hello?"
Swinging from their path, the three guards hurried over to him. Two covered him with wicked looking machine guns while the third demanded in heavily accented English:
"Who are you and what are you doing here? This is private property, what do you want?"
"I'm a driver, a limo. I was told to pick up a Mr. Vacca at Villa Rosa, but I can't seem to find the place."
He held up his hands as he spoke as if intimidated by the weapons. The man regarded him and then snapped:
"Put up your hands, you will be searched."
Obeying slowly, 47 allowed himself to be roughly frisked and then shoved backwards as the guard spat at his feet.
"Idiot! Villa Rosa is two miles down the street. You should have read the signs more closely. Where is your vehicle?"
"I left it at the end of the driveway, I was hoping to find someone to give me directions."
"Go quickly, before I give my boot directions to your ass!" the guard waved 47 in the direction of the main road with his rifle. Spitting again at his shoes, the guard turned back to his companions and cursed loudly in Italian. They slowly ambled off on their route, occasionally glancing behind them to make sure that the inept driver was on him way back to the car…
As soon as he reached the car, 47 got in and drove in the direction of the fictitious pickup, however as soon as he was out of sight and earshot, he gunned the engine and hastily headed into the nearest village.
Parking in the town square, he mingled with the tourists, pretending to sightsee while looking for a church. Finally spotting one, he walked through the doorway and under cover of the genuflection, looked for the Merces Letifer symbol embedded in the cement of the doorframe. It was engraved on the left side, close to the floor as not to be noticed. This meant that there would be someone inside that could help him. Standing up, he paced down the centre aisle and made his way to the confessional. Inside the cool wooden booth, he inhaled the scent of incense and beeswax polish and he leaned back and closed his eyes. The rustle of broadcloth heralded the arrival of the priest and a moment later the wooden divider slid silently aside.
"How may I help you my son?"
"Forgive me father for I have failed." Said 47 solemnly.
The divider suddenly slid shut and he could hear the hasty movements on the other side of the wooden wall. He remained seated, confident that he would be called momentarily and was proven correct when a light tap came at his door. Emerging from the confessional, he found an altar boy waiting for him. He allowed himself to be lead in silence to a near invisible side door. The boy unlocked it with a large brass key and held it open for him. Stepping through, 47 heard the door close and lock behind him. The room he had entered was dark with dimly glowing light fixture. Directly in front of him was another identical door, which was swinging open. He entered another chamber, flooded with artificial light and filled with the electrical sounds of computers and other such hardware.
A young man in the robes of a monk came up to him and said:
"This way please sir, your terminal is ready."
Following him to an out of the way corner, he sat down behind the desk and opened the laptop that had been placed there. Logging into the network, he waited for Diana to be patched through. The young monk had vanished and he watched as similar young men bustled around the ancient stone chamber working with some of the world's most modern equipment. A soft tone signaled Diana's presence and he patched the audio through to his Bluetooth. Diana's crisp tones filled his ears.
"What happened 47? You didn't complete the job and now you're scaring the local network."
"You told me that I had been compromised, to leave immediately."
"I did no such thing."
"The message came through on my secure phone, only you have that number."
"I didn't send you a message. "
"Someone did. You need to find out who."
"I'll look into it. Meanwhile, you have to finish the job, the client will not accept failure."
"Any new parameters?"
"Dead by dawn, just like always."
The connection was abruptly severed and 47 was left wondering, if Diana wasn't looking over his shoulder, who was?