|Hitman: A House of Cards
Author: Darkxorcist PM
Based on 'A House of Cards' from 'Hitman: Blood Money' An assassin is assigned to eliminate Hendrik Schmutz, a white supremacist, Mohammad Bin Faisal Al-Khalifa, the Chief Executive Officer of APEX International, and Tariq Abdul Lateef, Mohammad's scientist. I am unsure whether to make the rating M, as you have to be over 15 to even play 'Hitman'.Rated: Fiction T - English - Crime - Words: 3,595 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 01-22-13 - Status: Complete - id: 8934187
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is based off the mission, 'House of Cards' from 'Hitman: Blood Money'. I wrote this a while ago.
I however, make no mention of Agent 47, only referring him to as an assassin or hitman. There are some differences in this story to the actual mission. Here, there is only one elevator instead of two. I did this because in the game, when you played the mission for the first time, you did not know which elevator Lateef or Schmutz got into unless you used your map. This would be the same case for the assassin, he doesn't have a map which alerts him to where people are moving, so realistically he would not be able to predict which elevator they would go on. I can't remember how 47 received his mission briefing so I just made it up. I know Lateef doesn't have his cell phone on him on the game, but I am puzzled as to how his cell phone was in his hotel room, even when he had not arrived.
I also used Australian spelling so don't complain if some words are spelled differently.
I do not own the Hitman franchise, even though I want to as it would be so cool.
Please read and review.
The day was bright, sunny and humid in Las Vegas. People were entering and exiting the Las Vegas State Library. Some were entering. In the Western entrance, a man of a medium build, with cold blue eyes and an angular face was conversing on his cell phone. After a while, the man hung up and entered the library. Wandering around the library for a while, scanning through a few books, the man walked to the politics section. Browsing through the aisle, the man stopped when he saw the book '1848 THE BRITISH STATE and the CHARTIST MOVEMENT' by John Saville. Flipping through the book, the man stopped at page 69. From page 69 to 91, the centres of the pages were carved out and a memory stick was in there. Removing the memory stick and replacing the book back into the shelf, the man continued to browse through different sections of the library.
After spending a few more hours until closing time in the library, the man left to his apartment. Taking out his 'Mini Notebook' by Kohjinsha, the man turned it on. Inserting the memory stick into the notebook, the briefing for his next mission popped up:
"Welcome to Las Vegas. There is a white supremacist from South Africa, his name in Hendrik Schmutz, who is trying to sell some DNA material and lab reports to the wealthy Mohammad Bin Faisal Al-Khalifa. The sheikh is working for someone else, but he or she is unknown. The client wants to force them into the open by disrupting the deal. You have three targets: the Afrikaner, the sheikh, and the sheikh's scientist, who will be there to verify the material."
Scrolling down the page the now identified hitman looked at his mission Intel:
It would be wise to check in at the reception as one of the first things to do in the casino.
Security is very tight, so the staff have key cards that only provide access to the floor they are working for.
A hotel room has been booked in for you under the name Cropes.
The casino has strict fire-safe procedures. Fire alarms are easily accessible in the top floors.
There is no cell phone coverage inside the casino to prevent cheating. Anyone receiving a call has to go outside to answer the call.
The hitman's mind was processing the information, and plans were being made as he saw his Objectives:
1. Kill Tariq Abdul Lateef
2. Kill Hendik Schmutz
3. Kill Sheikh Mohammad Bin Faisal Al-Khalifa
Preparing his equipment, the hitman settled into his bed for a light nap
At the Las Vegas International Airport, Mohammad Bin Faisal Al-Khalifa stepped out of his personal Gulf Stream V private jet. Throughout the day, he had been suffering through a headache and it seamed to be only getting worse. As he walked briskly across the hangar floor to his waiting limousine, his entourage chased after him with the sheikh's baggage. The sheikh merely grumbled at his private security detail held the car door open for him as he climbed in.
Meanwhile, just outside the Shamal Hotel and Casino, the hitman paid his cab driver the fare along with a fair tip and exited out the cab with his briefcase. He looked around at the slightly gaudy Arabian-themed hotel and casino before walking inside. He walked up to the reception desk and to the attractive concierge. "I have a reservation. The name is Cropes."
The concierge scanned the computer screen. "Let's see…there it is. Here's your key card," she said as she slipped the key card to him across the desk counter. "Our new key cards are floor-specific, so they only give you access to the floor you are staying on."
"That's fine," 'Mr Cropes' said.
The concierge then flashed him a big grin. "Alright, then on behalf of Shamal Hotel and Casino, please have a pleasant stay Mr Cropes."
The hitman ran his key card for Suite 701 through the card reader and entered his hotel suite. However he did not take the time to notice how comfortable the suite was. He immediately began looking around, checking around all corners and inside all the rooms for any hidden assailants. Satisfied that he wasn't about to be ambushed, he put his briefcase on the bed. Glancing at his watch for the time, the hitman then placed his Mini Notebook onto a table and connected it with his cell phone. Hacking into the casino's surveillance system, he scanned through the cameras. He then broadcasted the camera's footage onto his cell phone. Scanning through the blueprints of the casino, the hitman noted that there was a staff exit to the roof above the casino from the lounge area. Striding to his balcony, the hitman thought that while his balcony provided an adequate vantage point to see the staff exit door, the neighbouring balcony was better.
Scanning through the surveillance system, the hitman saw the scientist entering the casino. Placing his fibre wire into his pocket, the hitman made his way towards the elevator. Entering the elevator, he closed the doors and pushed the 'lobby button'. Seeing the elevator start to move down, the hitman quickly, yet quietly climbed through the elevator hatch.
Dr. Tariq Abdul Lateef was not a calm man by nature. He had a tendency to fidget a lot, wringing his hands or cleaning his glasses to the point that they gleamed. Reclusive, hands-on, and perhaps even a bit eccentric, his private laboratory was the only place in the world where he could truly relax and focus. However this deal, which he fully knew to be highly illegal, had him more agitated than usual. He had taken some mild depressants on the flight over, but they did not seem to be working at all and he could not take anything more powerful less it would certainly affect his work and state of mind during this deal.
"Why, why did I have to be the best," he mentally bemoaned. He had been the top researcher and scientist for Arabian Pharmaceutical Exports for five years now, so he had naturally caught the eye of the company CEO and de facto owner Sheikh Mohammad Bin Faisal Al-Khalifa. When Al-Kalifa asked him to come with him to Las Vegas to verify some DNA samples and research papers that he was buying from someone, Lateef knew better than to refuse; no one in Al-Kalifa's domain refused him anything. As the car pulled up to the curb, he continued to drum his fingers on the briefcase full of untraceable blood diamonds that he was uncomfortably holding onto. The Sheikh did not trust the seller, so he had instructed Lateef to hold on to it; and when the deal happened, the DNA samples and documents would be sent up to him and the diamonds would be sent down while he verified the samples.
Lateef climbed out of the car and walked into the hotel with his own small security detail on loan from the Sheikh. His guardians had been silent and professional on the trip; their job was to make sure Lateef got on the elevator to the eighth floor and then secure the VIP lounge in advance for the Sheikh. Other members of the security detail would be waiting upstairs to take the scientist to Suite 803. Lateef did not have to stop and check in at the concierge's desk; room arrangements had already been made and he had gotten the key card for his room in advance, so he headed right for the elevator and pressed the button. Fortunately, he did not have to wait for the elevator to come down; it was already there waiting for him. He stepped in and pressed the button for the eighth floor; the doors closed and he began the ride up.
All of a sudden, there was something around his neck and he could not breathe! He was pulled up off his feet and panic overtook his mind. He clawed at whatever was around his throat, feeling some kind of wire. He kicked his legs and thrashed in the air but the wire held fast. Lateef quickly lost consciousness and was pulled up the top of the elevator where his assassin continued to pull on the wire until he sure Lateef was dead.
Looking at the deceased scientist lying on top of the elevator, the hitman crouched and searched through the scientist's possessions. He took the scientist's passport, wallet, room key card, cell phone and the briefcase filled with diamonds. Waiting until the elevator's door closed, the hitman climbed down and pressed the button for the seventh floor. As he walked back to his room and was preparing to slide his key card through the card reader, he heard a noise similar to someone falling down. Turning his head, he raised an eyebrow at the sight that awaited him.
Samantha Michaels definitely did not expect her second honeymoon to turn out this way. It was just what she and her husband Peter needed. Instead, she had found him flirting with the younger, thinner and more attractive hotel employees. Now, after consuming the suite's entire mini-bar in less than five minutes, she was ready to get revenge upon on her bastard of a husband. Staggering out of her suite, she managed to move a few metres before she tripped and fell. After struggling to get back up, a shadow fell across her and she looked up at the man in front of her. Seeing a tall male with sharp features wearing a conservative-looking suit, Samantha thought he was probably a lawyer or something.
"Hey there, stud, you're not alone are ya?" she slurred with a big smile. "I'm unaccompanied, if that's what you mean," he answered somewhat coldly. Samantha was too drunk to notice his chilly tone. "Whoa! I can change that! I'm…I'm unac...unaccom…I'm alone in Suite 703 myself. Come up and see me some time," she told him as she handed him an extra key card to her room. The stranger took it without question, and she walked away while casting a drunkenly flirtatious look over her shoulder at him.
Wheels in the hitman's head were turning as he looked at the wall plaque of the floor's fire escape plan and noticed that Suite 703's balcony was the suite next to his; exactly where he wanted his vantage point. The hitman entered his suite and sat down on the couch in the living area. He deposited the items he had looted from Lateef's body, and examined each one carefully. First he opened the briefcase and saw it was full of diamonds, and nodded in satisfaction; that would be worth a good bonus for a job well done. He closed the case and moved on to the other items.
He shifted through the other items before finally inspecting the cell phone and saw that the Sheikh's number was already programmed into the phone's contact list. Seeing this, a plan was already forming inside the hitman's mind. Checking through the surveillance system again, he saw Hendrik Schmutz leaving the casino and heading towards the elevator. Briskly, the hitman walked towards the elevator for his next kill.
Hendrik Schmutz loved Las Vegas. He had come here once with some old friends in the mid-1990s and had been meaning to come back ever since. So far he'd spent most of the afternoon in the bar, and had enjoyed chatting with the barista there. He told her to meet him in his room, Suite 708, when her shift was over. The deal with the Sheikh would be over and done with by then and he would be able to relax, among other things. "But now business must come first," he reminded himself as he walked to the elevator. The Sheikh would be arriving in a few minutes and Schumtz needed to make sure everything was ready.
Hendik could not wait to be rid of that stupid briefcase; the one with the DNA samples and research papers Al-Kalifa was buying. Schmutz had heard rumors of Al-Kalifa's corporation dabbling in cloning technology, and that the Sheikh was willing to pay big money for anything to further his goals; so when Schmutz had gotten his hands on the samples and documents from someone who used to work at an obscure asylum in Romania, he immediately contacted the Sheik with a business proposition. Personally, Schmutz thought that all this international debate over cloning was pointless but he could not ignore the money. The cause for white nationalism back home needed money to fund its activities after all.
When Schmutz pressed the button for the elevator, the doors almost immediately opened for him. Pleased he did not have to wait; he stepped inside and pushed the button for the seventh floor. He felt the effects of gravity as the car rose and he allowed his mind to drift off again. He was thinking about all the money he would be given before he felt the wire around his neck.
Back in his suite, the assassin deposited the recently-deceased Schmutz's belongings on the table alongside Lateef's. The Afrikaner had been carrying even less than the scientist, including his room key card and a South African passport, but he had also been carrying a silenced Sig-Sauer P-229 handgun. Looking through the surveillance system, he saw that Sheikh Mohammad Bin Faisal Al-Kalifa had arrived at the hotel and was know sitting in his private area of the lounge. Satisfied that he had everything he needed, the hitman grabbed the plastic bag from the wastebasket and unceremoniously dumped the items into it excluding Lateef's cell phone. As soon as he was done with the phone, that would be tossed into the bag as well. Once out of the hotel, he would dump the bag in the desert or several towns away from Vegas.
He went to the bedroom and collected the briefcase he'd arrived with. He left the room and walked down the hall to Suite 703 and slid the key card through the card reader, hoping Samantha was passed out drunk. To his mild disappointment, Samantha was still conscious. She was sitting on the couch and was downing a bottle of vodka that was half-way done. "Well, come on in, hot-stuff," she giggled drunkenly. He entered without a word and looked at the coffee table; she had no doubt gotten room service to bring her more booze as there was another empty bottle sitting there. Meanwhile, Samantha had staggered over to the centre of the room and put on some slow, sensual music and started dancing. She no doubt meant to look attractive, but she merely came off as boorish and clumsy.
The hitman merely stood there, watching her stoically. He had a syringe with a sedative of general Anaesthetic hidden behind his back and was prepared to inject her with it as soon as she turned her back to him. However he did not have to use it. A moment later Samantha fell to her knees and lay down the floor, too drunk to do anything else. He crouched down and snapped his fingers in front of her; she didn't even stir. She would be out for a while, and when she woke up she would not remember anything anyways. He wondered for a moment if she might die from alcohol poisoning, but decided not to dwell on it; it would not be his fault if she died.
Pocketing the sedative, he set his briefcase on the ground and opened it, revealing the parts of a disassembled Walther WA2000 sniper rifle. Compact and powerful, it was ideal for this job. He qsuickly reassembled it and screwed in the silencer, then went out onto the balcony. Ready and in position, the hitman called the Sheikh.
As he sipped his glass of Chateau Petrus '83, Sheikh Mohammad Bin Faisal Al-Kalifa's headache felt like it might be starting to fade. Since coming to the hotel and sitting down in the VIP lounge, things felt like they were going a little smoother. Normally, the Sheik would have shown up here a few days earlier and have already blown several million dollars at the tables, and afterwards enjoy the evenings and nights with the finest escorts in the city. But this trip had been last-minute, and considering who his clients, known as The Franchise, were, he knew better than to waste his time with any of his usual hedonistic pursuits before getting the job done first.
His cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and, seeing Lateef's name on the caller ID, he answered immediately. However all he got was static; checking the display, he saw he had almost no connectivity bars inside the casino area. Grumbling to himself, he looked around and saw there was an exit marked "Staff Only". For a moment he debated how much trouble he could cause if he used that door; but only for a moment. "Let them try to kick me out," he thought to himself. "I spend a fortune in this city every time I come here."
Confident that no one would be able to attack him, he decided not to inform his security detail that he was leaving. He snuck through the double-doors and up the stairs leading up to the roof. Once outside, he re-dialled Lateef's number. The phone was answered on the first ring. "Sheikh Mohammed Bin Faisal Al-Kalifa," came the reply. Definitely not Lateef's voice. "Who the hell is this?" Al-Kalifa demanded, his headache suddenly getting worse again. "This is the man who's about the kill you." A half-second later, Sheikh Mohammad Bin Faisal Al-Kalifa was permanently cured of his headache as the jacketed hollow point of a 7.62 caliber round tore into his skull. His head exploded, blowing blood and brain matter all over the wall behind him.
The hitman nodded in satisfaction at the kill and went back into the room. Samantha was still passed out and had started snoring. He ignored her and began disassembling his rifle when there was a knock at the door. "Samantha? Samantha, it's Peter. Can't we talk about this?" someone called from out outside in the hall. The hitman did not panic; he was too self-disciplined to do that. He just finished putting the rest of his weapon in the rifle case and went outside on the balcony. He tossed his rifle case on the balcony of his suite, and then climbed over the railing. It would be a long way down if he missed, but he had jumped further distances, and over greater heights.
The hitman leapt across and pulled himself over the railing. Collecting his rifle case, he walked back into his suite and prepared to leave for good. Grabbing his rifle briefcase and the diamond briefcase, the hitman calmly walked out of his suite. Inside the elevator, the assassin did not even spare a single glance upwards to where the deceased body of Tariq Abdul Lateed and Hendik Schmutz were. "Another successful mission," the hitman thought, as he left the Shamal Hotel and Casino. His only regret was that he could not stay longer to enjoy the venues in the casino.
Sheikh Mohammad Bin Faisal Al-Kalifa's body would be found an hour later. In that respect, he was the lucky one. Even after a thorough search of the hotel by Al-Kalifa's security detail, the casino's security, Las Vegas Police, and even the FBI for other missing guests, Schmutz and Lateef's bodies wouldn't be found for another two days until after guests complained of a foul stench in the elevator and maintenance would finally be called to check it out. 'Mr Cropes', however, would never be heard from again.
I hoped you enjoyed it, please review.