yo yo yo my readers! this here's the second classmate-suggested story, this time by Edwin, a friend of my boyfriend. he wanted a horror story surrounding agent 47 from the Hitman series of games and gave very precise instructions for everything, right down to which characters should be referenced. I haven't played hitman either it's really not my cup of tea but Edwin I hopet his makes you happy. c: also I looked up a video of that mission with the dog that's referenced and aww it's so cute he even rolls over as he's running aaaa it's adorable! also your brother's story should be up soon I have the first draft done just need to proofread it and everything.

Pupik

the air was dry and cold in Vegas that night, as Agent 47 was perched on a building he opened his sniper case took out his rifle and got into position he was ready. he had prepared for this moment. everything was perfect, except the cumbersome feeling of Pop Tart crumbs in his navel but that couldn't have been helped.

"how are you doing up there 47?" asked a disembodied woman's voice... other people nearby heard it but didn't see where it came from they were scared!

"I've been betta," said 47 in is Jersey accent, even though he was born in Romania, even though the very first voice he heard was German, even though he had no exposure to others with that accent. he was just born with it I guess? but he wasn't doing very well up here honestly, it was stinky and there was a splatter of something that was either vomit, diarrhea, or both only two feet behind him. don't worry though, it wasn't his. but he would soon be adding to it if he had to stay up here for much longer.

which thankfully wasn't the case. "I have the target in sight Daina," 47 said to no one in particular. when actually he was speaking over his earpiece to Diana Burnwood his handler at the ICA. but handler doesn't mean actually ahndling, that probably would've been illegal.

"go ahead and take the shot at your leisure 47" said Diana.

47 aimed his rifle at the bellhop in the front (he had photos of Lorne de Havilland's dog and de Havilland wanted him dead for it) and concentrated, waiting for the innocents to leave the scene. there, the bellhop was alone... now all he had to do... was pull the trigger...

"WHEN ARE WE EATIN' I'M STARVIN' HERE" shouted a voice from under 47's shirt. he jumped and screamed in shock and fell off the rooftop and onto the street below, breaking his neck in three places. then Hitman: Contracts happened.

after 47 recovered and got the hospital bill then had another heart attack then recovered after that, he went over to the ICA HQ because Diana wanted to have a serious talk with him after his failure in Veagas.

"47 I am severely disappointed in you," she said, taking a soip of coffee from her "BEST BOSS" mug that 47 got her last Mother's Day. "you've never failed a mission vefore. what on Earth happened?"

"it's nothing important Diana" said 47 sternly AS HE MUNCHED ON CASHEWS.

"you broke your neck and popped your spleen on the way down, and I heard rumors your weanie was sliced off in the fall because some dude was trying to throw a butcher's knife out the window when you fell past it."

47 glowered at her. "I am completely intact, Diana." but that was a lie, he was still looking for his weenie. but that was bteter that giving up on it!

"well I still don't want you-"

"HEY, QUIT HOGGIN' THOSE CHASHEWS ALL TO YOURSELF, GIMME SOME I'M DYIN' HERE!"

47 looked down horrified, then ran out of the room. "GOTTA GO DIANA SEND ME THE NEXT MISSION VIA MAIL OKAY BYE!"

Diana could only watch him leave. "wut?"

47 slammed the door shut and slid down it "hoo," he said, then glared at his navel. "shut it, you little bastard. I told you not to talk in front of othahs."

"I'M HUNGRY" said 47's navel.

47 sighred and rolled his eyes then fed his navel a cashew to shut the stupid thing up. when he left the scene there where cashew bits on the floor that the janitor found, and he scratched his goatee trying to figure out who - or what - left them...

Diana sent 47 a mission to go to Lee Hong's House of Fornication (which was the name of the brothel in his restaurant, he rebranded it posthumously). 47 spied on the place from a nearby rooftop (he was safe since he'd sniped the guard) to get an idea of how to proceed.

"it seems they've stepped up security since I was here last," he said looking at the vast amount of guards.

"I WANT ROCKY ROAD ICE CREAM" said his navel.

47 ignored it and jumped down and landed on some poor soul who just wanted to go about his shopping in town in peace. but 47 figured "watse not want not!" and took his clothes as a disguise, but under them he was still naked. he went inside Tzun greeted him at the door dressed like a pimp since he ran the joint now.

"WELCOME TO PROSTITUTION CENTRAL OF HONG KONG, WE HAVE WHORE TO INCREASE THE HONG FOR YOUR KING-KONG-SIZED DONG, HOW MAY WE PROVIDE PROSTITUTE FOR YOU TODAY?" he asked.

"I'd like a-" 47 began but... something... deep inside him... felt wrong...

"ARRRGGGHHH" he screamed fell to his knees and began having violent confulsions. for a moment he wondered if he was in labor with a love child of Skip Muldoon, but the truth was much, much worse.

he flopped over on his back and ripped open his shirt, his navel was rumbling. slowly,, his navel was stretched open by something exiting his body. at an agonizing pace, a smooth, bald scalp protruded from him - and it was soon followed by a disturbingly-familiar face.

another clone squirmed his way out of 47's body, shrugging him off like a discarded husk. 47 lay there, dazed, bleeding, and slowly dying, as the new clone adjusted his blue tie and turned to face him.

"mission accomplished," he said, slowly raising his silenced beretta and putting the agent out of his misery.

THE END