by: Washington Maverick | April 24, 2004
The crucifix always bounced reassuringly against his chest whenever he took his walk around the garden. Tobias opened the door to the rectory, greeted with blinding rays of sunlight, forcing him to squint. Passing under one of the turrets on the church, the sunlight gave him a brief reprieve, and he stopped.
The front gate hung open.
His ears immediately perked, senses kicking into a high state of attunement. Moving in a low crouch, he quickly sprinted to the archway that led down to the garden. He swept the garden, lingering on each detail. Everything was just as he had left it, down to his bible lying in the grass. Taking his trowel from his belt, he moved stealthily towards the front gate, flattening himself against the wall. As he neared the door, he felt his breathing naturally slow, his body movements becoming more fluid as his mind dropped into it’s killing zone, where every movement he made was mechanical. He crept around the edge of the door.
Scanning the road, only the sun greeted his inquisitive eyes. Standing up slowly, it was the glint from the early evening light on the edge of the knife blade that caught his attention.
Ripping the knife from the door, he already knew what awaited his perusal.
As he stared at the words, he felt the cruelty, the brutality, the cold calculating anger seep back into his body.
* * * * *
The ball of yellow paper fell to the earth, bouncing in time with the slow, measured step of the hit man. Leaving the ransom note on the floor of his humble cottage, he hurled the rug across the room and dragged the trap door concealed beneath it open. His head disappeared beneath the floor, accompanied only by the thud of his boots on the wood.
The light bulb clicked on. Casting his green, dirt-stained apron aside, he opened the cabinet dresser, the only form of furniture in the tiny basement.
"I always have looked better in black," he thought ironically as he pulled his suit of the single hanger. The red tie flapped slightly as it hung on the cabinet door-handle. The trap-door provided light as he pulled the black slacks on, fitting the black Italian coat over his shoulders. As he tightened the red tie around his neck, he began to tap around on the floor with his black, spit-polished shoes. A hollow sound met his ears as he tapped the center of the room and sighed. Black leather gloves were pulled over his hands, giving him grip as he tore the fake floor panel out of the floor.
The shiny black case glinted in the dim light. The clasp clicked loudly as Tobias opened the case. His hands traced over the cold, hard, silver steel. As he lifted the two sable pistols, a slight shiver of familiarity ran down his arms.
He stood, his eyes gracing the barrel of each .45 caliber killing machine as he raised them to the light. Quickly holstering them, he shut the case and replaced the floor boards. Taking a deep breath, he shut off the light, and ascended towards the light once more.
Red and blue bound books flew onto the bed as the man formerly named Tobias rummaged through his few belongings. Finally finding the black metallic case in his bookshelf, he retrieved the laptop and cleared a space for it on his desk. Opening the dusty laptop, he took the ear-piece from its holder and slipped it into his ear as turned the computer on.
"Agency? This is 47, patch me through to Diana, please."
Look for more Hitman fan fiction in the coming months. Until then, why not discuss
this one in the forums!
