THE KILLING TYPE - AGAIN, CHAPTER 1
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the "dead or alive" or "hitman" franchises
or any of the characters within them.
IMPORTANT NOTE: This is the continuation of "THE KILLING TYPE" story.
I started "THE KILLING TYPE" around the middle of 2003 and between then and early 2004 I wrote 3 chapters but I never got to finish it, I suddenly became overly busy with uni and stuff and then my PC broke down, in the end I had to reinstall the operating system and all my temporary files were lost. Anyway I've decided to finish what I started. This story basically involves a relationship between Christie from "Dead or Alive" and Agent 47 from "Hitman" (who operates under the alias "Romero" in this story). BEFORE READING THIS STORY YOU MIGHT WANT TO READ THE THREE CHAPTERS OF "THE KILLING TYPE", HOWEVER IT'S NOT A NECCESITY, because this picks up after chapter 3. I LIVE FOR REVIEWS, DETAILED, ANALYTICAL, CRITICAL REVIEWS, SO SEND'M.
It was a sultry friday night in an upmarket cafe strip in Sicily. A bald man dressed in a dark suit and red tie moved along a sidewalk with a slow, calm gait, the many cafes and resturaunts were bussling at this time of night, the sidewalks were littered with people talking, chatting, laughing, generally making a lot of noise, yet the bald man seemed oblivious to it all. He knew exactly what everyone was doing without even having to look. He'd know if someone was following him, he'd know if a sniper was hiding in a 3rd floor apartment on the opposite side of the street and he'd know if a car full of armed men waiting to ambush him was parked around the corner. However, tonight none of those things were anywhere near him, and he knew of this because he was trained to. He had no "real" name, the closest thing he'd ever had to a name was the number "47".
47 often used fake names though or "alias's" as proffesional types called them, right now his name was simply "Romero". making his way down the busy footpath he noticed many couples both inside the various restaraunts and coffee houses and outside in the street, many of them were young lovers fawning endless affection on one another. Love, that was something 47 had been deprived of through out his entire existence, for no one had ever loved him, and in turn he had never loved anyone. 47 was never created with love in mind though, the product of a cloning project, 47 and his "brothers" were created to be the perfect killing machines, raised inside a training facility within Romania, 47's daily existence was to perfect his killing technique. Beyond Romania, 47's adult life was a long path of corpses, one after the other. Now however 47 had tired of the killing game, but killing was all he had ever known, he wanted so desperately to embrace other human experiences, such as love, but the truth was he wasn't sure how to love or be loved, and the memories and guilt of all the terrible things he had done just would not leave him alone.
(Only half an hour away) At the allen estate mansion a large gathering was taking place, a gathering of sicily's powerful and priviliged and anyone with good enough contacts, one of these people was a tall, beautiful, platinum haired woman, she was known as Christie and she just happened to be a former proffesional killer. Christie wasn't mingling with the cocktail swillers however, she was standing alone on one of the mansions balconies, deep in thought.
How much longer will I have to wait.
Christie thought to herself.
around a week ago christie had momentarily spotted a man in the street below her home and something about him had stuck in her mind, by wild coincedence her good friend, and lawyer Cameron Allen happened to know this man who she had seen in the street, and with that knowledge Christie was now determined to meet this man, who's name was "Romero". Cameron, being the good friend to Christie that he was, invited Romero to a gathering at his home estate, to which Romero reluctantly agreed. Now all Christie had to do was wait, but she'd been doing that for around an hour.
Why won't you show yourself, Romero.
Christie thought, still waiting for the overdue appearence of this man she desired.
Sighing to herself she leaned foward on the balconies thick granite railing and stared longingly at the coast line. The sky was a haze of saturated orange as the sun was all but set. moving her gaze to the foreground of the estate, something suddenly caught her eye, a completely bald man in a suit with a blood red tie was making his way along the main driveway toward the mansion.
Finally.
Christie thought to herself with a sigh of relief.
47 was slowly making his way toward the estate mansion, his gloved hands were both stuck in his pockets and his head was hung foward.
Damnit, I hate this.
He thought to himself.
47 was generally not a very social person, especially when it came to crowds at a gathering such as this, he would be struck by severe anxiety, he knew exactly the kind of people who would be inside, portly, priviliged middle aged sicilian business men types showing off their young, frequently skin-jobbed, trophy girls. The moment Cameron had invited him to this thing he knew immediately that there wasn't really any point in going, but he had ended up here all the same, besides he didn't have much else to do. 47 stopped suddenly, his hands still in his pockets he stared up at one of the mansion windows, he could see the guests inside and they were exactly the kind of people he thought would be here.
"Oh well".
He sighed to himself, lowering his head.
"May as well see how the tomatoes and the rest of the garden are doing".
And with that he turned and made his way toward Cameron's estate garden of which 47 would often tend to as if it were his own.
"Your'e coming along extremely well, you are".
47 said to one of the tomatoe plants as he examined it.
He was kneeling in a small grass courtyard within Cameron's estate garden examining the various plant life, slowly rising to his feet he breathed in deeply all the aromas, outside of killing, gardening was the one other thing he was good at, and the one thing he enjoyed right now.
"Hello?".
He heard a female voice speak from behind him.
Spinning around, he was momentarily startled, before him stood a divinely beautiful, elegantly dressed, platinum haired woman, holding two long glasses of champagne.
"Not enjoying our friends party?".
She asked as she held out one of the glasses offering it to him.
"Uhhhh.....well".
47 couldn't think of how to reply, as he recieved the glass from her.
"Don't worry, you can be honest with me".
The woman told him.
"Well......frankly, I hate Cameron's bullshit parties, if you'd excuse the language that is".
"Not at all".
The woman chuckled at his brutally honest comment.
"Most of the women I see at these things are only here to be shown off by their portly husbands who are twice their age".
Amazing.
47 thought to himself.
This woman seems almost too good to be true.
"I'm assuming then that you are without a portly husband".
47 replied with a smirk.
"Sharp".
Christie replied with an elegant chuckle.
"Whenever I come to one of Cameron's gatherings I often end up out here, I usually don't come across anyone else out here though, Mr....what was your name???".
"Four....uhh, Romero, Romero Vittorio".
"Christina, but you can call me Christie".
The woman said holding out her overturned palm.
47 responded with what could have gone perfectly in only one way or terribly wrong in about a million ways, taking her palm he leaned foward slightly and kissed her forehand softly, in a gentlemanly fashion. Luckily for 47 it happened to go perfectly. the sensation of his lips on her skin sent surges of electricity through Christie.
My God.
Christie moaned in her thoughts.
He's a gentleman, an absolute gentleman.
Regathering her thoughts Christie returned her attention to the conversation.
"How exactly did you end up out here, Mr Vittorio???".
"Well, to be honest I haven't actually been inside the manor yet, Cameron is a good friend of mine but as I said earlier, I'm not really partial to his social events, I only really decided to turn up so as to check on the tomatoes".
47 replied as he gestured with his hand in the direction of several healthy tomatoe crops.
"Oh, are you a gardener???".
"Well, not proffessionally, its a hobby really, Cameron doesn't pay much attention to his garden, so I look after it from time to time".
"I was about to take a stroll through the grounds, care to accompany me???".
Christie propositioned as she held out a hooked arm.
"A pleasure".
47 replied as he recieved her arm with his own.
Together the two of them strolled slowly through the estates sprawling grounds, they talked endlessly, mostly about the lush fauna of the estate gardens and the many locales of Sicily, but the more they talked the more anxiety would grow within 47, discussing the fauna of the magnificent estate gardens was easy, and enjoyable enough, but what would 47 say if this beautiful goddess of a woman asked him about his proffesion or his childhood and personal life, just thinking about his origin and existence up until a year ago was painful enough, how could he ever tell her about those things, how in the world could he ever be intimate with such a heavanly woman. Through the eyes of the world 47 considered himself to be an abomination, created not so much by god as by a twisted human mind, he didn't even have a real name, all he had was a number. This beautiful woman who he completey didn't deserve, in his mind, probably had a happy, comfortable childhood, raised by loving parents, 47's childhood was cold and hollow, he was reared to be a merciless killing machine, he had no loving parents. And then there was all the killing, 47 had ended more lives than he could even begin to remember, he had even killed his own "Father" and several of his "brothers" out of pent up vengeful rage.
Soon the sun had completely set, and the stars had come out. By this time the two of them had completely forgotten about the events probably taking place at the manor. By this time mini coke orgies would have broken out, and the amount of alcohol consumed could probably have paid for the construction of a townhouse. It was dark in the estate gardens but the moonlight which shone down only made Christie appear more radiantly beautiful through 47's eyes. Silky, platinum frosted hair, full, rich lips, smooth skin and a slender, curved, leggy figure accentuated by the chinese cocktail dress she wore, adorned with spiraling dragon patterns. It was then that they realised they had ended up back in the grass courtyard where they had first met.
"You know, you still haven't told me how you came to be so smoothly bald at your age".
Christie told him with a teasing smile.
"No, your'e right, I haven't, it's genetic".
47 replied with a smirk.
"Really???".
Christie spoke, with the same teasing smile.
As she said this she stepped closer to him, right into his personal space, quickly, yet gently she raised her hand to his face and stroked her forehand across his skin, starting at his high cheek bone and moving slowly, seductively down and along his granite jaw line, then upward to his bottom lip allowing the tips of her fingers to tug at the lip opening, ever so slightly. Looking directly into his, now meak, eyes she softly, seductively spoke.
"Are you this smooth all over???".
47 could hardly answer her question though, he was utterly hypnotized by the allure of her cat like eyes, he was completely lost in them, never before had beauty such as this captivated him. Without another word she moved in even closer, and finally pressed her sultry lips against his, they kissed, lighty at first, but then they moved even closer to each other, his hands gripping lightly at her waist, her hands moving up to his head and neck to pull him in closer, the kissing, while still slow, became more heated, more exploritory, more passionite. Soon the two of them were completely engulfed in each other's passion. But then, suddenly, 47 grasped Christie's upper arms and pulled away.
"What's wrong".
Christie asked as she saw the expression on his face turn to one of immense fear, terror even. Before anything more could be said though, one of Cameron's portly party guests came stumbling out of no where, to the surprise of both the would be lovers, he was visibly intoxicated, likely drunk off his head, he was propositioning something to Christie in a messed up droll of the local language, the drunken ramblings of his speech made it somewhat troublesome for 47 to easily interpret but it was something about cocaine, swimming naked and orgies. Christie seemed to understand the language to a degree as she swiftly repelled his propositions in the local language, but the drunk wasn't swayed as he continued rambling he reached out and grasped Christie by the shoulder. Christie, a master of She-quan, instinctively would have retalliated, but only a split second before she could, 47, with his left hand, grasped the man's wrist and pulling it away from Christie's shoulder, with a quick twist the man's wrist snapped causing the man to cry out in agony, immediately 47 followed with a solid palm thrust to the man's head which sent him hurtling to the ground, unconcious. In the few seconds of this entire incident Christie saw the expression of 47's face turn from fear to murderess intensity and now back to fear. He was frozen on the spot looking completely uncertain, Christie momentarily turned her head to check the state of the drunk, but when she turned back 47 was gone, without a sound he had vanished......into the darkness.
END OF CHAPTER 1.
Well I hope you enjoyed it enough to make up for my overlong absence, don't fret, by the time you've read this I should be at least halfway through the next chapter. I LIVE FOR REVIEWS, SO WHAT ARE YOU WAIT'N FOR SEND' EM ALREADY AND MAKE THEM AS DETAILED AND CRITICAL AS YOU CAN, I CRAVE FEEDBACK!!!!!.
-FAMAS