Author: steamfan PM
"These men are chosen at birth – rejects, orphans - all of them unwanted and disposable." Or are they? The consequences of the Belicoff hit reach far further than anyone had ever anticipated.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Chapters: 20 - Words: 44,322 - Reviews: 30 - Favs: 21 - Follows: 26 - Updated: 12-01-12 - Published: 10-30-11 - id: 7509248
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Disclaimer: I own nothing of Hitman, either the film or the games.
"These men are chosen at birth – rejects, orphans - all of them unwanted and disposable." Or are they?
"I once hunted a man for three years. He was a damned ghost, a professional hit man," Interpol Inspector Mike Whittaker said. He and his partner were sitting in a bar full of cops, and like most such gatherings the night was ending with stories, both those true to life and those that were exaggerated. Tonight's stories were on the subject of the worst or deadliest criminals they had encountered. "I went home one night, about three months after a very deadly chase through most of Russia." He sighed, remembering that rainy night and running his hand through his now greying hair.
He looked sharply over at the two youngest agents. "Pay attention kiddies. This was the deadliest man alive ten years ago. He'd completed over one hundred hits that I know of and over forty men died in that one chase alone. His own organization set him up to take a fall on the hit he'd just completed. They called in his location to us without his knowledge.
"I saw him that night. He was only halfway dressed and barefoot. He was as unprepared as the man got, and sixteen Russian SWAT officers still died going in silent to arrest him. No one has ever beaten his record as far as I'm aware either. Jenks and I both barely escaped with our lives when we cornered him in the Saint Petersburg train station hours afterwards. If it wasn't for a young woman that he had with him that begged for both of our lives, I have no doubt that neither of us would have lived to see the next morning. His trademarks were; no motive, no evidence and no witnesses, ever.
"When I walked into my study that night, that particular ghost was sitting behind my desk. He was holding a picture of my family while he trained a gun at my head. He said that I had a nice family and they were alive, safe and asleep, and that they would remain so only as long as I didn't push him. If I forced him to kill me, then they would be killed as well. We talked for perhaps fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before he got up to leave.
"With the threat to my family I was hyperaware that this man could come back at any time and no one would be able to stop him. There was a split second opening and I took it because it was the only way to stop that threat. It was because of sheer luck and desperation that I came out on top that night. Never dismiss lady luck boys and girls, because she can bring down even the most capable of men and never back a desperate man into a corner. It's asking to be killed."
"Was he the one who gave you the information on the Organization?" Jenkins asked, finally putting the pieces together.
"Those bastards are the ones who raised him," Mike revealed.
"Well now that makes sense," Jenkins muttered. They'd had more than a few run-ins with assassins from the Organization as they strove to shut it down. The group was totally neutral and dedicated to the creation of professional killers. While none of the men were of the same caliber of their ghost, they all were more than simply competent. It didn't help that the intelligence agencies around the world were more interested in using their services than they were in putting a stop to the men who stole baby boys and turned them into programed killers. Of course the only reason that the Organization left them alone was that no one had put a hit out on them. As much as it stuck in Jenks' craw, the assassins considered them to be nuisances.
"He was the best they ever created, and then they shot themselves in the ass by pissing him off," Mike laughed. "I know that they lost at least five other agents going after him. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if they lost a hell of a lot more than that."
"Ah, our bodies at the train station and that so called monk at the funeral," Jenkins remembered. "Poor bastards really need a better retirement plan."
"Is that why the two of you chase the Organization so hard?" the youngest agent asked. "You feel sorry for them?"
"No," Mike said firmly. "I chase them because they kidnap baby boys and abuse them and then set them loose upon the world to survive for a few short years as assassins before killing them off themselves. They destroy families. They harm children. They force the survivors to commit murder for money. They're no better than a back alley pimp pushing young girls into prostitution."