Disclaimer: I do not own Agent 47. Just the story.
We've got an easy contract for you this time, 47. Our client wants a man by the name of James Duncan to be dead. The thing is, our client wants Duncan to die by what would be a horrible accident. Duncan is currently in the city of Virginia Beach. He is a teacher at Princess Anne High School. Not only is Duncan is a horrible teacher; he is involved in molesting students that regularly attend the school. We've also arranged a disguise for you in order to enter the school. You will be the new janitor, 47. Our client, who refers to himself as "Angry Father" would also like an associate of Duncan to be killed. This is optional though, but will nab you a $60,000 bonus. After you are done with your contract, there is an abandoned factory in Norfolk that may house a cloning facility for the Albinos. Tread carefully, and good luck, 47.
Virginia Beach, Virginia
The assassin stepped out of an old Honda Civic and breathed the crisp air while slipping on janitor's cap over his hairless head. A few leaves crunched under his feet as he walked to the front door. 47 walked into the main office and asked where he could get started. A middle-aged woman showed the assassin into the janitor's closet and told him to wait. 47 had no intention of waiting; he quickly walked upstairs and pulled out a photograph of his target.
47 examined the photo closely. It showed a man, slightly balding, blonde hair, and wearing bifocals. A bell rang and students started poring out of their classrooms. 47 grabbed a mop and pretended to be wiping the floor. The assassin looked around, but his target was nowhere to be seen. 47 walked up to a gothic teen, and asked her, "Where's Mr. Duncan? I need to clean up his room." The girl rolled her eyes, examined her black nails, and answered, "Duncan? Um, I think he's in his room. Over there." She pointed with a finger that had a skull ring on it. "Thanks." 47 replied, and walked over to the room, and peered in it.
47 had never been in a classroom before, but nothing in the room surprised him. The assassin saw his target sitting at an old desk, then get up, and walk towards the door. 47 quickly turned around and started mopping the floor. Duncan walked out of the room, muttered something about a smoke, and went through a door that was labeled, "Stairs." 47 looked around and saw that all of the students were busily talking at their lockers, and then followed his target. 47 saw Duncan walk up the stairs, and go through a door to the roof. The hitman waited until Duncan went to the edge of the roof, pulled out a cigarette, and started smoking.
Duncan stood there, gazing over the school grounds, taking in all the autumn colors. He took a puff from his cigarette and felt the addicting sensation of a cigarette. The teacher coughed, and heard something drop behind him. The next thing Duncan knew, he was pushed over the ledge. Duncan fell a good 20 feet before landing on the ground below with a pulpy smack. Staring up at the sky, the teacher put his hand up to his mouth, and coughed out blood. "Strangeā¦it should hurt. Shouldn't it?" Duncan wondered. He looked up and hoped that heaven would accept him soon.
Satisfied, 47 picked up his mop and went back into the building. As he was putting away the cleaning utensil, 47 heard a shriek from the office. A sobbing secretary ran up to him and was saying that a teacher had committed suicide. Frowning, 47 said that there was nothing he could do about it, and that it was time for his lunch break. The secretary stared at 47 in disbelief. Casually walking out, 47 smiled and knew that the first half of his contract was done. The bald headed assassin threw his cap in the car, stepped in, and drove away.
Later that night, 47 parked his car on the curb just outside of his optional target's house. The patient hitman waited until all the lights flickered off. 47 pulled his trademark Silverballer pistol out of the glove compartment and a silencer, and then holstered them. As he stepped out of his car, 47 felt a cool breeze lightly touch his hairless head. The assassin went around to the side, pried open a window, then silently climbed in.
Inside, 47 turned around and shut the window. He immediately flattened himself against a wall when he heard footsteps. 47 peered around the corner and saw a boy, about 9, walk into the kitchen. A few minutes later, the same boy groggily walked out with a glass of water. Hearing the footsteps fade away, 47 looked around. After a few minutes of sneaking around, 47 found his target's bedroom.
Hank Thomas lay on his bed, sleeping. A nearby light was on from the bathroom across the hall. 47 pulled out his Silverballer and started screwing on a silencer. The hitman pointed the handgun at Thomas's head when he saw a picture on his target's nightstand. The picture showed Thomas with a smiling wife, a teenage girl rolling her eyes, and the boy that 47 saw earlier. "So. He's a family man." 47 thought. To a normal man, that would be enough to spare Thomas's life. 47 was no ordinary man. Without even a blink, 47 shot Thomas between the eyes.
Thomas's wife was in the bathroom. She knew that she shouldn't have eaten that burrito. Drying off her hands, she decided to go check on her kids. The mother walked into her children's rooms and saw that they were both sleeping. Smiling, she walked back into her bedroom. She shrieked when she found her dear husband dead. By then, 47 was already pulling onto the highway.
Stopping only for a coffee, 47 drove straight to Norfolk. The lights of the downtown area shone brightly on the people walking around. Waiting at a stoplight, 47 pulled out a couple of papers with directions. Driving out of the downtown area, the assassin found himself in a rundown area. A few minutes drive got 47 exactly where he wanted. Stopping in front of a rusty fence, 47 pulled out two Silverballers from the glove compartment. The assassin put both of his trademark pistols in their respective shoulder holsters and stepped out of the car. He was ready.
There we go. Please read and review. I need some feedback. And I'm tired of threats of 47 coming to kill you.
