AN: This is a oneshot on our favourite bald guy, Mr. 47.It is based on my experience while completing "Dance with the Devil."
Disclaimer:I do not own Hitman.
A security guard in a building was sitting behind a desk. He was trying very hard to stay awake. His assignment, guard the simultanious Heaven and Hell parties. So here he was, losing his youth over a bunch of partying VIPs. He cursed his fate and continued his watch.
The building doors slided open and a bald man in an expensive Italian suit entered. The guard stood up and prepared to take the orders of yet another crazy VIP.
"I left my briefcase here this afternoon,." said the man. "I was told it would be kept in the staff room there."
"No one told me about any briefcase," said the guard.
"Are you saying it's been stolen?" asked the man in a tone the guard didn't like at all.
"Hold on, hold on. I'll check." responded the guard and headed to the staff room.
He entered the storage section of the staff room and looked hard for a briefcase. But a split second later, he felt a needle ram in the side of his neck, after which he fell limply on the floor. He would wake up hours later, cursing the man in the suit.
A second guard was standing in the garage area. He would not let anyone pass.
He was looking at a dumpster in front of him. He wondered if it had any purpose in this garage.
A moment later, he fell limp, a result of a sedative which a shadowy figure had injected into him. The figure than grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the dumpster, where it lifted him up and brought him down in the dumpster. It did have its use after all.
Anthony Martinez was easyng himself in the men's room on the top floor. He was wearing a golden tux complete with a demon mask.
After he was done. He grabbed the handle of his trusted riffle case. Inside was the most dangerous riffle in existence. The F-2000. As a CIA agent, he had easy acces to it and its ammunition. He had bargained with an arms dealer by the name of Vaana Ketlyn to sell it. What he didn't expect was that the ex-circus showgirl would fall in love with him.
"Ah well. Back to the party."
The CIA agent had the honour to be invited to Vaana Ketlyn's simulltanious Heaven and Hell parties. He chose the Heaven party as his main residence, although Vaana made him promise he'll come to the Hell party for at least 10 minutes.
As he steppped in the glass terrace, he looked at the beautiful sundown. He thought it was appropriate. It marked the end of his career as a CIA agent and his life of riches after it. He looked at the sun for awhile, before turning tail and entering the inner part of the party floor.
He heard ugly, distorted sounds, comming from the singer. She was, simply BAD! Anthony remembered in frustration when he heard that the singer he had lined up had a fatal accident. Nobody realised what he had gone through to get her. So this babe was a real quick replacement.
A girl approached him, and said:
"Mr. Martinez. Ms Ketlyn requests your presence at the Hell party."
"Thank you."
Anthony sighned in relief. Anything to get away from that singer. He walked towards the elevator, still holding on to the riffle case. He entered, and pressed the button for the ground floor.
The instant the doors closed, Anthony saw a streak of silver fall and a split second later, an immense force lifted him up by the neck. The CIA agent felt his windpipe crush, his brain screaming for oxygen and his lungs trying in vain to comply. He was dying.
Flashes of his life traced back to his memory, his childhood, career, meeting Vaana Ketlyn. He thought of it all, seeing everything in a different way. In his last moments, he cursed a milion times the moment when he deciced to get involved in illegal weapons trade.
In a final action of human instinct, he looked up, desperately trying to see his killer. All he saw were two icy cold, blue eyes. And then nothing.
Anthony Martinez was dead. His final thoughts were a prayer for his beloved Vaana.
Eve was singing (badly) on stage. But that didn't matter to her. She was scanning the audiece for her mark. He wouldn't be hard to miss.
She saw the disguisted looks on the party guests faces. How much she wanted for her to get undercover as a waitress. But she only got to be a singer.
The song was (finaly) over, and both Eve and the audience were releived. She headed to her private room in order to contact her partner, the self proclaimed world's best assassin.
Eve met Maynard John at her first day at The Franchise. They have been on missions toghether, but never had their target been another assassin, who knew all the tricks of the trade. To make sure that their mark would not escape, they split and took over staff positions in both the Hell and Heaven parties. Eve had already forulated a strategy, provided that their mark stopped by the Heaven party. And as for Maynard John...he was his usual crazy self.
Eve came closer to the window. She pulled out her cell phone, and tried to phone Maynard John, but before she could do that, she felt a syringe sink in her neck. Slowly, the man holding the syringe injected her with something.
"Poison."
Eve now knew who it was who was killing her. There were countless kills done this way. She even knew the poison. It was potasium-sodine. the fastest-acting poison known to mankind.
She knew now, the person who injected her was her mark. She tried to stay awake, but her blood was bringing the poison to her brain. Slowly, Eve drifted off, for the first time feeling like an angel.
Vaana Ketlyn was waiting for her lover, Anthony Martinez to come down to the Hell party. She felt somewhat lonely without him.
She cast her looks on her party. It was a masterpiece. It was for her, paradise(chuckle). Everything, from the great white sharks, to the creepy bartender was hellish. She never felt more satisfied before. If only Anthony was there.
Ahh, the duties of a party host. She stepped through the staff room and walked towards her platform over the shark tank. She stepped outside, and she saw her Anthony on one of the balconies. There he was, unmistakeably him in his golden tux and demon mask. She waved cheerfully and he waved back. After the pyroshow, she'll show him something else than sharks or fire jets.
She started dancing around the platform, bethween the jets of fire. What nobody understood was that the jets were not aimed at her at all. She only made it look like it so tha people would think it is interesting.
Here was the great finale, just a few jets away. Vaana looked at Anthony, and saw him turned around. Where a curled black hair, there was a bare head. She knew, that wasn't Anthony.
The final jet was aimed at her. It set her entire body ablaze.
She rolled around on the floor, knowing what has happened. The misterious bald man has rigged the pyroshow. And the fact that he was wearing Anthony's tux ment that he had killed her lover as well.
She jumped into the shark tank, hoping she would survive. But what would be life without her dear Anthony?
She didn't survive. The moment she hit the water, a great white shark swalowed her.
Maynard John was watching the pyroshow. What a work of art. His target was a skilled assassin as well.
He got back to his bar, wondering who of the masked guests was his mark. He looked around, and saw the back of a completely bald head. His target was disguised as the guest of honour. He now saw his mark approach him. He decided to draw first blood.
"Ah, Mr. 47. The Fates have conspired to throw us together at last." said Maynard John in a dramatical voice.
"I appreciate your enthusiasm." said his mark. His voice was cold and emotionless.
"Don't play coy with me 47." responded the fake bartender. "I know all about you. You are just the ungainly outcome of a childish experiment with genetic Tinker-Toys. Super-assassin, indeed. You are less than human and I intend to prove it."
"How do you intend to do that?" asked 47.
"We're going to duel. Meet me at the room marked "Torture chamber". said Maynard John as he himself headed for the said room.
When he unlocked the door to the "Torture Chamber". Maynard cast his look on the room. It was perfect for a duel. A soundproofed storage room with lots of cover. Maynard John couldn't have made a better dueling ground himself.
The golden-tux-claden Mr. 47 was approaching. He entered the room and Maynard John locked the door behind them. After that he turned, and spoke again in his melodramatic voice.
"Here we stand, the world's best and second best assassin. Only the former will leave this room alive. The soundproofing will prevent any interuption. Arm yourself appropriately my mutant adversary, and we shall commence."
Maynard John ran towards a pillar and took cover. His mark also hid behind a pillar.
Maynard John started firing his submachinegun, knowing that there was no way for him to hit 47, but he fired anyway. He hoped to at least fool 47 into hiding.
He fired until he felt it was time to change his position. He blasted the door away and crossed the gap. He immediately settled in his new nest. Assuming that his target had not noticed his shift, Maynard John got into the open and tried to fire, but then, a most unusual thing happened.
Maynard John heard a gunshot. He had heard this type of gunshot a number of times. It was unmistakeably a Desert Eagle, the most powerful sidearm in existence.
The 50. caliber bullet soared through the air, finishing its trajectory in Maynard John's chest.
Maynard John was in agony. He felt the bullet ricocheting inside his ribcage, ripping his lungs and heart apart. He fell to the ground, dead.
A security guard was patroling in the garage. He was too tired to notice a figure dressed in an expensive Italian suit sneak past him.
The figure, an assassin by the name of Mr. 47, entered a blue van and drove off into the night.
I hope you like it. It does not have a sequel or an update. It's a oneshot.
Salutations.