THE KILLING TYPE - AGAIN, CHAPTER 3
"CONFESSION"
"What the hell am I doing" 47 questioned himself in his thoughts.
Slowly making his way to Christie's apartment his hands were stuck in his
pockets and his head was hung foward. A few seconds later he heard a
clank sound from behind him.
"Oooooh Jesus Christ" he groaned.
The clank sound came from the AMT Hardballers hidden in his suit,
47 could hardly believe it, he had stuck those things under his suit
so many times before going out somewhere that the process had
finally become sub-concious, he was also fairly sure that his fiber
wire was cleverly hidden away in his jacket sleeve, ready to be drawn
at any moment.
"Chriiiist" he groaned to himself once more. There he was on his
way to see the most beautiful woman in existence, whom he had
fallen in love with, who had discovered part of his dark secret, and
what had he done???, he had dressed himself with deadly weapons
as if he were off to carry out a "hit".
"I'll never escape this" he groaned to himself.
It was a slightly overcast day in Sicily, as of late the days had been
either satisfactory or fairly warm with never more than a handful
of clouds in the sky, but today it was overcast, the temperature
was still moderate though. Christie, while waiting for 47 had decided
to take a quick dip in her pool, having the aprtment at the top of
the building she also owned the roof, which she had furnished and
installed a pool. The cool water felt particularly good today, it
was invigourating but at the same time very relaxing. Rising to the
surface she sensually ran her fingers through her water soaked hair,
slicking it back over her head. Opening her eyes she was momentarily
startled (though she didn't show it) by the sight of 47 standing at the
pool's edge, waiting with a towel for her, looking directly into his eyes
she smiled and made her way toward him.
As Christie surfaced from the pool 47 couldn't help his jaw dropping
in amazement, she was wearing an amazingly revealing swimsuit, it was
a jet black one piece with the front in the shape of a perfect "V", the
neck line plunged all the way down to just above her crotch area.
Virtually her entire magnificently feminine physique was on display,
her build was long and slender, impressively toned and athletic, she
obviously took good care of it. 47 didn't know what to say, he just
stood there, meakly, his jaw lowered in amazement. Christie approached
him with a warm smile, raising her hand to his chin she lifted his jaw
closed and gave him a light, sultry kiss on the lips. 47 savoured the
pleasure of once again sharing physical contact with Christie, but at the
same time it absolutely terrified him within, the nightmarish vision of her
elegantly beautiful face being painfully burned away by blood from his
hands was all too fresh in his mind and it horrified him to no end.
Christie turned her back to him, allowing 47 to drape the warm towel
around her lithe body, as he did this with the utmost gentle care and
restraint she reached her hand up and stroked his cheek, affectionately.
"Christie, I........I can't do this" he whispered with a sorrowful tone.
Turning back to face him, Christie put her hand to his cheek again.
"Why.........Is it me???" she spoke softly, looking deep into his eyes.
"No.......it's not you......your'e beautiful" 47 whispered, their lips
only centimetres apart.
"Cameron told me about what you used to do, it isn't a problem, I don't
want you any other way" Christie whispered sincerely.
47 slowly lowered his eyes sombrely, "Cameron barely told you
anything........there's far more to it".
"Then tell me.......talk to me........I want to help you" Christie pleaded
softly, now with her other hand resting against his neck. Slowly she led
him to some nearby seating and sat him down.
"Tell me everything" Christie whispered softly.
47's expression was hopelessly sombre.
"My.........My name isn't Romero Vittorio, that's just an alias, in fact I
don't really have a name per se, all I've got is the number 47......you see
many years ago.......in Romania............an underground organization
started a project to genetically engineer the perfect killers......from the
ground up......".
As 47 spoke Christie removed his leather gloves and held his hands
with hers, as 47 realised his bare hands were touching her soft flesh for
the first time he suddenly tried to pull them away, but Christie calmed
and reassured him and continued to hold his hands as he spoke.
"They had put together cocktailed gene samples......the samples contained
several genes favourable to that of a soldier, flexible metabolism for
perfect physical potential, strategic thinking, a thanatistic instinct......the
list of genetic attributes was endless. The gene samples led to the creation
of several boys........clones.........to be used as the test subjects of the
project".
47 paused silently for a moment before closing his eyes and letting out a
deep sigh.
"I........was one of those boys".
Christie listened to 47, completely transfixed as he recalled every cold,
painful memory to her, his loveless childhood as he grew up in the
Romanian facility, every day being another brutal training regime of how
to perfect one's killing technique, there was both physical training and
psyche training both designed to strain one's physical and mental condition
,surviving it was one's only option, failure resulted in disposal for
unworthiness. As he grew and approached manhood his mind was
relentlessly conditioned to kill, quickly and efficiently. Eventually he
found himself working for "The Agency", his performance in the field
was simply unmatched and soon he became notoriously sought after,
his list of victims was record breaking. Exposure to the outside world
had a peculiar effect on him though, he witnessed other forms of human
interaction besides just killing and his exposure to it all led him to begin
questioning his existence and all the times he had killed. The turning point
came when he stumbled across his "father", the scientist who helmed the
project which created 47. He hated this man, he blamed him for
everything, he was the reason his life was nothing but killing, it was his
fault that 47 was a murderous, inhuman, beast trapped in a man's body.
In a vengeful rage 47 brutally murdered his "father", he believed it would
bring him absolution.........but it didn't. The murder only made him feel
worse, he had effectively proven to himself that he was a murderous
abomination, that it was in his blood, his dna, his very nature.
"So you see Christie, you've been very kind to me but......I'm not sure
I can be helped, I've done so many horrible things in my life...............
......I just..........don't know how to deal with it all".
Christie didn't answer immediately, instead she slowly brought her
forehand to his cheek and stroked it gently, she loved doing that, his
skin was smooth and it sent a warm, soothing sensation through her.
"I can help you, I know exactly what to do" she spoke softly.
47 raised his eyes to look at her, but his expression was still unmistakably
sombre and sorrowful.
Christie leaned in even closer and wispered in his ear.
"Just behind us is my sauna hut........go inside.......undress and lie on the
massage slab.........wait for me there........I'll need a moment to get
ready".
47's expression suddenly became one of suprise and confusion, Christie
noticed this immediately and putting two fingertips to his lips she looked
directly into his eyes and spoke again.
"Trust me".
END OF CHAPTER 3
WELL THERE GOES ANOTHER CHAPTER. I hope everyone's
enjoying the story. As you read this I'm currently putting the finishing
touches on the next chapter, feel free to send me any suggestions. A
special thanks goes out to "SWARM", "PARANORMAL DETECTIVE"
and "QWERTY" for their feedback, thanks a bunch guys, it means a lot
to me. Don't forget to SEND REVIEWS.
-FAMAS