DC: Hitman: The Hitting Chapt. 5

I'm far too sober for this, but I'm going to give it a crack anyway, dear reader.



 47 arrived in Brazil [I thought he was going to Reno? Reno's not in Brazil. Unless Nevada's defected or something], but then got a call from Diana saying he needed to stop in the capital Brazil City [the capital of Brazil is Brasília. Don't be ridiculous]. The client has stopped there for a business meeting, so you can find him to explain our TOS. [Can I? I don't want to read your Terms of Service though.]


OK. Said 47. Anything else [Oh goody. The speech marks have completely gone. I think my brain just melted in excitement.]

Our guy who needed the suitcase is also there [we still don't know where 'there' is, exactly], and he was the one who told us about meeting so you should probably go to him first.

So 47 walked out of the phone booth he was in and checked his radar PDA [you'd think 47 would have a smartphone by now. I'd love an app that displays a Hitman-esque map, complete with blips indicating people] map. He saw that there was a building where lots of people were, including a VIP [as are their wont], so he began walking there.

Agent 47 walked into another slum [we didn't know he'd been to one in this chapter], but this time there was no one around. 47 first thought that they were getting stuff to fix houses, but then he saw that houses were mostly OK. [In a slum? The houses in a slum aren't supposed to be "mostly OK".]

Then two boys ran buy while saying that there was fights [they broke two of the rules of Fight Club. Or should that be three rules? It's been years since I've seen it]. So 47 followed them to arena and paid a real Brazil dollar [he's splashing out. A genuine Brazilian dollar. Expect that Brazil uses the real (pronounced 'reais', not real dollars] to get in. There was a cage match, and Mr. 47 began to watch when he noticed something. [Yeah, for some reason I can't see 47 watching a cage fight.]

One of the guys in the match was Agent Smith [what], and he was getting beaten up because he was a loser agent as well as a VIP [because VIPs are there to be beaten up]. Agent 47 couldn't laugh [47 never laughs], so he started shouting YOU SUCK [he never does that either] so he would not have to be covered.

After the round ended, 47 dragged Agent Smith to the backstage because he was unconsciousness [no-one questioned 47 dragging him away?] and left him the suitcase and put on his fighting outfit, then he went onstage to where there was a muscled masked wrestler. [Wait. What? Is 47 going to cage fight?]

You're not Agent Smith! he said. [Well done, you deserve a medal. Also, Smith is so inept that he uses 'Agent Smith' everywhere he goes.]

Yes I am. 47, who was not actually Agent Smith [yes, we know], replied. It's just hard for you to see because you're wearing a mask. [What.]

That kind of makes sense [No it bloody doesn't!]. He said [if he said it, he needs to use speech marks]. Then they began fighting. The masked wrestler punched 47 a few times, so 47 head butted him, and then shoved him into a wall until he was unconscious. [47 fights dirty.]

Agent 47 went backstage again and got back into his suit. Meanwhile Agent Smith woke up. 47! You won me a prize! Thanks! [I'd like to question why the troll decided he no longer needed speech marks.]

You're welcome.

Agent Smith then opened the suitcase 47 had brought and saw there was an anti-tank sniper rifle in it [they do exist. They're monstrously impractical, but they do exist]. Cool! Now I can do missions again! I mean, this is fun too, and I get lots of info, but now I don't have to get beaten up! [I'm trying to place the mental age of 47, and failing miserably.]

Speaking of that, where is the client

He's in the Nail Company building. Have fun. [I'm mentally placing the speech marks now.]

47 watched Agent Smith get beaten up in another match [always good for a laugh], then went over to the Nail Company building. Just in case it was a trap, he went into the basement [just like that] where there was a track driver. Excuse me, he asked, but is someone planting bombs here [What.]

Yes, he replied [I'm assuming that the driver's talking now, because the writer's not being particularly specific], but the guy is having union trouble so the bombs wont be planted until tomorrow at the very least. [So... The trade union is planting the bombs, but they're not doing it on that day because they're on strike? What. The. Fuck.]

OK and 47 took the elevator and started sneaking around the building just in case it wasn't really empty [always a good strategy]. On the third floor he heard someone complaining at someone else on the phone that sounded familiar, so 47 started sneaking to him.

On the way he found a Desert Eagle and a RPG with a silencer [... They don't use silencers], but he didn't take them because 47 already had a Desert Eagle from all the other games [the Fourth Wall, how does that fucking work?] and the RPG was too big to carry out. Anyway he found the guy wearing a black tux and complaining over the phone to someone [yes. We know], and then 47 realized this guy was he same guy who was in the last two missions he went on because he sounded the same. [DUN DUN DUUUUN.]

Then the guy hung up and uptrend around [I hereby propose that we all uptrend around everywhere we go, dear reader], and 47 saw that he was really pale, and he had sunglasses and a stupid haircut. Wait a minute you're not a ghost! he said. [That's always a good assumption to make.]

Who are you asked 47. [I'm still mentally placing the speech marks. You should do the same, dear reader. Alternatively, you could close this page and write a strongly worded email to the Pit complaining about fics like this.]

I ..am MARK PINOCHET V! said Mark Pinochet V [how very redundant]. I am a class five clone hitman! That means I get aged quickly, but then stop here when I am 29 [lolwut]! I WILL LIVE FOREVER! [Not really, no. See, Pinochet was already dying in Blood Money and- oh who cares? I can't be bothered trying to correct the canon problems any more. it's a trollfic for chrissakes.]

47 looked at him weird [not as weirdly as I'm looking at these words], and then said. Your claims have several problems. Let me show you one of them. [Clever, Trollficcer, clever.]

Then 47 began to take out his silenced pistols, and Pinochet ran away screaming. [I see what he did there.]

47 was still very frustrated, so he beat the truck driver to death with a ceiling lamp so it would look like an accident [yes, he accidentally headbutted a ceiling lamp several times until he fractured his skull. Obviously a complete accident], stole his truck, and drove it back to Vegas so he could sell the bombs to the Agency or maybe the Mafia. [The Mafia pay better- OOPS, did I type that out loud?]


I need a drink. Or a holiday. Or shooting to death so I don't have to look at this horrible fic any more. Even Celebrian didn't make me feel like this.

Until the next horrendous chapter!
Teddy