Disclaimer: I don't own Hitman or any of the characters featured in the story.
Author's Note: While the story references events from Hitman: Absolution, it is not entirely canon to the official story.

1/ The Desert

"Where's the girl?" 47 calmly asked as he took another bite of an apple, occasionally rotating it in his hand. He leaned against his black Hudson Hornet he'd taken from the since-deceased Edward Wade at the Rosewood Orphanage. He stared directly ahead, somewhat amused at the torment he was inflicting upon the son of his target. A mere ten or so feet from him, Lenny Dexter was reluctantly digging a hole in the middle of the South Dakota desert, shaking with fear and holding back the desire to burst into tears. The sweat pouring down his shirtless back glistened in the beating sunlight, his arms completely sore from the labour. 47 noted that although Lenny was in excellent physical shape, his condition proved unsubstantial, as he easily tired from the work. "I won't ask you nicely next time," 47 reminded.

Lenny slowed his digging to a halt, standing straight to stretch his body, wiping the sweat from his brow. He knew he was standing before death incarnate and even still, he maintained his bravery—albeit a stupid move, considering he wasn't standing before his gang—and scoffed. "You'll kill me once I tell you."

Crunch. 47 took another bite of his apple and scanned the man before him. He had to admire his composure in a certain death situation. 47 knew Lenny was scared, regardless, and kept that thought in the front of his mind as an advantage. "I'll kill you if you don't tell me." His words had proven sharp, as Lenny's smirk quickly transformed into a frown and his lips quivered. 47 finished his apple and tossed it aside before crossing his arms. "Keep digging."

"I know what you are," Lenny said boldly, in an almost sing-song manner. He gave a quick sideways glance to his captor and continued digging. "My father told me the stories; you aren't human. You're a test subject...a clone, something-or-other." Lenny felt his legs starting to shake. He was well aware that by this point, he was knocking on death's door, but in that moment, he felt in control.

Now standing, completely straight, 47 walked over to Lenny and picked up the knees of his pants, crouching before him. "What do you know about that?" he demanded.

Lenny tried not to smile as he realized he might have an upper hand in the situation. He continued to dig, using the labour as an excuse to not make eye contact. He did glance over to 47 once, noticing the silver AMT Hardballer tucked safely away in its holster. Ignoring a brief thought of bravery, he continued his confession. "He said you came from some sort of laboratory, one of thousands. 'Genetically enhanced' were the words he used. Enhanced to be some sort of super soldier, designed to carry out kill orders. Like you killed my father, like you killed Wade. I'm not letting you kill that little girl!" Lenny stopped abruptly, realized what he said. His father, Blake, had always lectured him to never show any kind of emotion in the face of the enemy. 'Never let them see you bleed,' were his words.

47's expression went blank as he heard Lenny speak. He stood up and stared directly into Lenny's eyes. "Are you trying to tell me that your intentions are to protect Victoria?" Lenny nodded. 47 extended his hand to help Lenny out of the hole he was digging. Lenny resisted at first, wondering what his intentions were. Tossing the shovel aside, he took 47's hand and climbed out of the hole, take a few steps away from his captor. "Why?"

Lenny was now most certainly terrified. He was certain that he somehow angered the bald man and was about to be killed. He distinctively shook with fear, and 47 noticed immediately. Lenny swallowed hard, remembering he had been asked a question. "I heard my father talking to Layla about Victoria. He said something about planning to steal her from some agency and run tests on her, to see what made her so special. He told me she was a valuable asset and sent me with Wade to the orphanage to find her. But then...Wade and his crew started killing everyone; the priests, the sisters, the security...and then I saw Victoria for the first time. She looked only thirteen...I couldn't let my father have her...hurt her, maybe even kill her. That's when I saw you and I knew you wanted her too, so I took her with me and..." He stopped, realizing he'd almost given away the girl's location.

He noticed the assassin's further interest and backed away, tripping over a rock and falling to the ground. 47 walked over and sat on his knees next to Lenny. In that moment, Lenny felt completely vulnerable. He knew if he tried to get up and run, he wouldn't have a chance. His lips started to quiver again. 47 absent-mindedly put his hand on Lenny's stomach and looked at him. "I—p-please don't kill me," Lenny cried out. 47 grabbed his hand, forcing him to calm down.

"I'm not going to hurt you," 47 replied. "I don't want to harm Victoria. I have been trying to protect her myself. I took her from a friend of mine who had died trying to care for her too. I put her in that orphanage for safety, while I dealt with the people after her." 47 noticed Lenny was somewhat surprised, but also in disbelief. He stood up, helping Lenny up as well, and helped him back to the car. "Lenny, you have to tell me where you put her."

Lenny leaned against the car and looked up at 47, trustingly. "Blackwater Park, in Chicago. It's where I live when I'm not in South Dakota. She's in the penthouse, under the protection of my father's...my bodyguards." Lenny laughed at the irony of the situation he's in now, and the uselessness of bodyguards. "After you killed my father and Layla, I inherited the penthouse and the employees. I ordered them to safeguard her." Lenny coughed. "I knew it'd be the last place anyone would look." 47 reached through the passenger window of the car and handed Lenny a bottle of water. He drank it almost desperately, the water spilling all over his neck and chest. 47 watched him quietly, feeling remorseful for the torture. He watched the water trickle down Lenny's chest, in an almost academic manner, completely interested in his former victim's physiology. The water continued to descend his body, over his chiselled stomach before being absorbed by the fabric of his jeans. 47 noted that Lenny had a couple of tattoos on each arm and one of a revolver facing downward on his lower back, all of which had proven uninteresting, but most likely meaningful to Lenny himself.

"Lenny," 47 finally spoke. Lenny capped the water bottle and reluctantly looked at him, still mildly frightened. "I'm sorry. If I'd known that you were trying to protect Victoria...I wouldn't have done this to you."

Lenny remained quiet, twirling the bottle in his hands. "You aren't going to kill me?"

"I won't hurt you at all. I promise," 47 replied. "Can you take me to Victoria?" Lenny nodded and climbed into the passenger side of the car as 47 closed the trunk and joined him. He started the car and headed toward the highway, handing Lenny a spare shirt from the backseat. "Here. It's thin, so you won't get heat stroke." Lenny nodded and put on the white v-neck, rolling the already short sleeves up to his shoulders. After a few moments, 47 turned into the interstate and rolled up his window. "You're still scared," he stated, almost in an inquisitive way.

Lenny said nothing for awhile. It wasn't until they passed through the town of Hope that he finally spoke. "They're all dead, aren't they? Mason, Tyler, Landon...you killed them." Lenny looked at 47 and noticed his reluctance in nodding his head. "It's alright," Lenny smiled. "I never really liked them. They only hung around me because of my father's influence. Good riddance, if you ask me."

"Why are you still scared?" 47 asked, changing the subject back to his original question.

Lenny glanced over to him. "You could kill me once you get the girl. You might not even want to protect her."

"If that's the case, then why did you tell me where to find her? Better still, if I wanted you dead, wouldn't you think I'd have killed you by now?" 47 knew he had made a valid point and might've finally convinced the kid. "I promised that I wouldn't hurt you. Do I look like a liar?"

Lenny shook his head and apologized. It was a quiet drive for a few following hours, until Lenny raised a question of his own. "What's your name?"

"I don't have one," 47 replied, begrudgingly. "Where I came from, it was only numbers. I'm 47."

"What should I call you?" Lenny asked, implying that '47' isn't an actual name. He wanted to know about this man. While he was still shaken up about his capture, he was still fascinated by him. He thought it was some sort of Stockholm syndrome—a desire to be close to his captor—but he knew he was just generally interested.

"Just call me '47'," he replied. He could tell Lenny was disappointed. "You should get some sleep. It's going to be a long while before we reach Chicago."