Room Temperature: Dropped.Heartbeat: Steady.Silverballers: Locked and loaded.System Objective: Eliminate all targets.
The shotgun muzzle still pressed against Agent 47's shoulder.
The man holding it grinned. "Last chance."
Click.
The front door burst open — snowflakes drifted in as the air pressure changed.It was the last thing they saw before death arrived.
Agent 47 spun counterclockwise, disarming the man by twisting the shotgun barrel up and slamming the stock under his chin with a crack.He fell back with a wet gargle.
Before he hit the floor —Two quick suppressed shots.Chest. Head. Gone.
One down.
The group exploded into noise — boots scrambling, weapons rising.
"HE'S RETALIATING""FUCKING KILL HIM—"
Wrong move.
47 dropped low, sliding sideways across the wood floor, both pistols out.Left hand:pop pop — a bullet pierced the knee of a woman raising a rifle, spinning her sideways.Right hand:pop pop pop — into another man's gut, then chest, then head as he tried to recover.
Blood sprayed the living room walls. Smoke curled from the silencers.
A muscular brute with a lead pipe roared and charged.
47 flipped backward over the overturned couch as the pipe crashed into it.As the man lifted it again—
47 lunged forward, catching his wrist, snapping it sideways with a dry pop.The pipe dropped.
47 seized it mid-air.
And drove it through the man's throat.
Thunk.
He dropped like dead meat.
Someone screamed — a woman burst from the kitchen with a knife in both hands.Sloppy. Rage-filled.
47 side-stepped her lunge, twisted behind her, grabbed her hair, and slammed her head into the edge of the dining table.Once. Twice.
The third time cracked bone.
Her body twitched. Didn't move.
A younger one tried to run back through the rear door.
47 pulled a rifle from the counter — FEDRA-salvaged M4 — and fired once.
Back of the head.The boy folded forward and slid down the wall.
Abby had taken cover behind the couch. She was bleeding — a graze on the shoulder, face splattered with her squad's blood.
She popped out and fired wildly with an assault rifle.
Bullets tore through the room — missing.
47 calmly walked to the side — bullet holes chasing behind him like ghosts, but never catching.
Click. Empty.
She froze.
47 stared at her like a verdict.Raised his baller.
"Wait—!"
He fired.
Knee shot. She screamed, collapsing.
She tried to crawl, dragging herself toward her fallen rifle.
He stepped on it, kicked it away.
She looked up. Trembling.
"…You're just a game character…"
47 looked down at her with detached silence.
"Not anymore."
Final shot. Right between the eyes.
[NEXUS SYSTEM – CONTRACT COMPLETE]
All Targets Eliminated.Bonus Awarded: +40 Stat PointsNew Passive Skill Unlocked: "Killing Machine" – Brief boosts in perception, accuracy, and reaction speed after every confirmed kill.
The house was soaked in blood.
Smoke curled from the carpet. The walls painted in violent memory.Agent 47 stood still — not a drop on his suit.
He holstered his pistols. Adjusted his tie.
Walked out the front door as calmly as he'd walked in.
Snow kept falling.
Death had come and gone.