HITMAN: ABSOLUTION
Mission 15
Title: Force Majeure
Targets & Objectives:
Identify and Abduct Alice Thorne
Identify and Eliminate Owen ‘Protagonist’ Wagner
Identify and Eliminate David ‘Whitecap’ Schneck
Location: Hope, Australia
Opening: The figure on the screen opened fire on the police cars. Bullets rattled off the hood and windscreen, and they veered off the road.
On the other side of the screen, Carlton Smith smiled as he directed his character with a controller at a different cop car. Glancing at the mirror he’d set up to point at anyone who’d come up behind him, he spotted that one of his colleagues was indeed coming up the aisle.
Switching his monitors from the game to his actual work, Carlton quickly deposited his controller in the open drawer he’d left open, and shut it just as fast.
“Mr. Smith,” she said with a slight smile.
“I’d rather you’d call me Carlton. We’re partners now, after all.”
She smiled a bit more. “Penelope, then.” She gestured towards his monitors. “I see that you’ve brought yourself up to speed.”
Carlton gave a nod. He was a little out of his depth, he would have to admit. He was much more used to field work, but he could understand why he’d been demoted.
Well, it seemed like a demotion, anyway. It wasn’t; not officially. Even though Faba was gone, Guillaume Maison was a loss that hit some people hard.
And so, here he was. Working as Penelope Graves’ new partner in finding and bringing in the terrorist, Sean Rose.
“Any thoughts? Or questions?” Graves asked.
“Can’t say I do,” Carlton said, then furrowed his brow at the unexpected sound of his phone going off. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID, which simply read ‘Unknown’.
“Mind if I take this?” Carlton asked his companion.
“Of course not!” Graves said, stepping away.
When she was gone, Carlton answered the phone. “Y’ello?”
“Mr. Smith,” said a voice he’d come to recognize.
Carlton jumped in his seat, and leaned forward into his desk, his voice dropping by a few octaves. “47?” he whispered.
“I need a favor,” 47 said from the other end, and Carlton got the sudden sense of whiplash.
Carlton stumbled over his words for a moment. He looked back to see if anyone was watching him, then turned his attention back towards his monitors.
“I can do something,” then he faltered. “You’re not…planning on assassinating the president, are you?”
“I need you to find one of Mark Faba’s associates. Alice Thorne.”
If Carlton noticed the slight present tense in 47’s wording, he didn’t say anything.
Grabbing a sticky note from his drawer, Carlton wrote down the name ‘Alice Thorn’, followed by a re-spelling, ‘Alice Thorne’.
“Trace the last call this number has made,” 47 continued. When he finished listing the number, Carlton put it into his computer.
“I hope you know I could probably go to jail for this,” Carlton said, hesitating with his finger over the ‘Enter’ key.
47 doesn’t respond.
Every moment of 47 helping him in the past flew through his head, followed by his bonding with Victoria.
With a mental ‘Fuck it.’, Carlton clicked the ‘Enter’ key, and waited.
A minute passed in relative silence. Carlton made casual glances behind him just to make sure no one was watching.
Eventually, Carlton asked, “How’s Victoria?”
“Fine,” 47 answered. Carlton nodded to himself, pulling his lips inward.
A pause.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Calrton said at a more leveled volume. “The world of assassination, it doesn’t have to be Victoria’s world.”
There is a long stretch of silence and Carlton worries that the call was disconnected before he hears a, “Thank you,” from the other end, taking Carlton aback.
Before Carlton can say anything, his computer makes a sound, alerting him to its task completion.
“Alright,” Calrton lowers his voice again, “The last call from Faba’s phone landed in Hope, Australia. That’s probably your girl,” Carlton closes the screen. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
“We’ll see,” is all 47 says as a response, and then hangs up.
A bus pulled up to a stop and the doors opened. Two pairs of feet stepped onto the pavement, and the bus shut its door, and drove off.
47, however, pays no mind to the vacating bus, instead scanning over the small town of Hope.
“So…” Victoria shuffles her travel bag from hand to hand. “This is where Faba is?” Victoria asks in a tone of attempted nonchalance.
“No,” 47 says, stepping forward and into the town. Victoria is quick to follow. “One of Faba’s associates is here.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, Victoria asks in a whispered voice, “How does k-killing her help us find Faba?”
“It won’t,” 47 responds, “Grabbing her is the priority. But if she’s here, then so will be Owen Wagner and David Schneck.”
“Who are they?”
“My targets.”
Post-Mission Cutscene:
Jordan brought the glass of wine to his lips and tilted his head back, its sweet taste flowing down his throat.
“If people didn’t know who you were then, they do now,” Hannah smiled, twirling her wine in her glass. One of Jordan’s arms was wrapped around her shoulder.
Heidi leaned forward, a smile on her ruby red lips, “Good start to the new year, Jordan?”
As Jordan put his glass down, a smile curled onto his face. “We fucking did it! We started at the bottom and made it to the top.”
“Don’t get so cocky, Jordan,” Quentin said, adjusting his beanie. “Getting the name out there was just one hurdle, you know.”
Jordan’s smile faded slightly. “Yeah… Yeah, I know. Just wanted to celebrate.”
“So celebrate, you pain in the arse!” Hannah exclaimed, and Jordan’s smile was back. “I reckon you’re gonna get a call soon,” she put on a sly mask, and the other three stared at her.
“Call?” Jordan asked with a hint of excitement.
Hannah hummed. “A little someone who you’ve been trying to get the attention of.”
“Dexy Barat?” Quentin asked, looking at Jordan with wide eyes.
Hannah squeezed her lips and looked from side to side, shrugging her shoulders innocently. “Maybe…”
Heidi falls back in her seat, flabbergasted.
“No way,” Jordan shaked his head, “You did that?”
“Took some convincing, but after that performance of yours…” Hannah trailed off, smiling down at her and Jordan’s connected hands.
Jordan looked back at Heidi and Quentin. “You don’t look so worried about becoming a celebrity, Quentin.”
“Oh, I never worry,” Quentin crossed his legs and pointed at his eyes, “Causes wrinkles.”
Heidi breaks from her flabbergasted state and laughs. She looked over at the television. “Thirty seconds to midnight.”
The two other members of the Class, and Hannah Highmore, look over at the restaurant television.
“Anyone want to say some words to lead us out of this year?” Hannah asked, looking mischievously from Jordan, Heidi, and Quentin.
Both Quentin and Heidi turn their gazes to Jordan. “Go on, Mr. Songwriter,” Heidi mocked playfully.
Jordan faked an exasperated sigh, and stood up, taking his wine glass with him.
“How about a toast to my dad, huh?” Jordan asked, and as soon as the words left his mouth, Heidi and Quentin glanced at each other. “If there was anything he did for his prodigal son, it was sleeping in his coffin while I made a name for myself.” He raised his glass. “To Thomas Cross for-”
“Jordan,” Hannah gripped her boyfriend’s hand, gently tugging him back down into his seat.
“Sorry,” Jordan apologized, “It’s just-”
“I know,” Hannah tapped his hand.
Quentin looked back at the television. He tapped Heidi with his foot and started to count down with her.
At last, the countdown hit zero and Heidi, Quentin, and Hannah cheered, “Happy New Year!” in their little corner of the restaurant, but not loud enough to bother anyone.
Only, as soon as the words came to an end, an explosion echoed throughout Time’s Square.
The group looked at the television and saw, where the New York Ball once was now the remnants of a destroyed stage, dead bodies lying both on the street or the platform.
“What the fuck?” Heidi stood up, her chair scraping against the wooden floor.
Quentin, Hannah, and Jordan just stared at the television, almost uncomprehending of the images on the screen.
“We…” Jordan swallowed, his throat dry, “We need to go.” He grabbed Hannah’s hand, and they hurried out the door.
Quentin was quick to follow Jordan, though Heidi swiftly threw her guitar bag around her shoulder, and ran after them, following her friends into the panicking crowd outside the restaurant door.
“Hannah!” Heidi shouted, crowd members pushing against her in a run. “Jordan!”
She didn’t know where her friends had disappeared to. Somewhere ahead of her, Hannah held Jordan’s hand in a tight grasp as they ran with the crowd. If there was a second explosion, nobody wanted to get caught in it.
“Oh, fuck!” Hannah cursed, her grip on Jordan’s hand vanishing in one sudden moment. Her voice was lost in a crowd of yells and cries, and Jordan only barely heard it.
Hannah fell to the pavement, her heel snapped. She hadn’t been expecting to run.
She had no time to dwell on that, though, instead forced to focus on the searing pain that exploded throughout her body as the crowd ran over her, feet stamped into her body as they hurried.
“Han?” Jordan called, stopping his run to look behind him. A maneuver that proved difficult with the wave of panicking people.
Hannah screamed in pain, but the people didn’t seem to let up. Over and over, people stepped over her. Someone stepped on her head, forcing her into the ground. She whimpered as she felt her nose break under the pressure.
“Hannah!” Jordan yelled out, trying to stand still while the wave pushed him backwards.
Someone stepped on Hannah’s neck, and she abruptly found it hard to breathe. She choked out Jordan’s name one more time, before she fell still.
“They’re ready for your appearance, Mr. Argus.”
The man’s voice came out slightly statically from through the microphones. Through the cameras, the person watching them could see that the man, a guard, had walked up behind his employer.
Bartholomew Argus heaved something that sounded a bit between a scoff and a sigh. He pressed the pause button on the game he’d been playing.
“Out in the open like that, yeah?” Argus asked. He looked at his agent, who’d been sitting next to him. “You said it’d be television only. That they’d wheel in some camera or something.”
Argus rested his controller on the table. “I’m not goin’ out there. It’s the perfect way for Stoakes to make his move.”
“You said you and Stoakes were like brothers, what makes you think he’d hurt you?” Argus’s agent asked. “Besides, he can’t go anywhere. Not under the, uh, scrutiny.”
Argus stared at his agent. “I know Stoakes. He ain’t one to just let things go. Especially not ones that fuck up with his life.”
Despite his words, his agent didn’t seem all that worried. “Mate, are you listening to yourself? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
The man watching the scene play out turned down the volume slightly. Morgan had just walked in. He looked rather odd without his usual outfit.
“Mr. Faba,” Morgan said, standing just behind his…patron.
“Morgan, you’re right on time,” Mark Faba replied without looking at him, steepling his fingers in front of him.
Patrick Morgan glanced around the room. Faba had set up a temporary base in the basement of one of the local stores on the outskirts of Time Square. On one screen was camera footage of Bartholomew Argus. On the other was the New Year’s countdown.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting such a public…engagement.”
“I quite prefer public consultations.” Faba stood up, taking his phone from off the table. He gazed at the television for a moment, and then looked at Morgan.
“These are some of my favorite occasions,” Faba said, circling his chair. “The calm before the storm.” He laid one hand down on the back of the chair, his other folding behind his back. “It screams how much can turn around in an instant,” he said, twirling his finger in a circle for emphasis.
Morgan didn’t know exactly what to say to that, so, instead he said, “Argus doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere.”
“Oh, I certainly hope not,” Faba remarked, “I was sort of betting on that, you see.” He nods to the television featuring the countdown. “Here it comes.”
The countdown hits zero and, for a moment, nothing happens. But very quickly, the ball shatters, setting the stage next to it aflame. The news reporter has to duck from the force of the blast.
Morgan’s eyes rove the screen. He wasn’t entirely privy to Faba’s plans, but he wasn’t exactly expecting this.
“It’s a shame I couldn’t be there in person,” Faba said. Morgan nods in agreement.
On the other screen, Argus and his agent seemed completely unaware of what was happening just a short time away. One guard touched his hand to his ear piece.
“Mr. Argus-” the guard began, stopping abruptly as his head jerked forward, and his body collapsed.
The two other guards in the room raised their own weapons, as well, but neither of them landed a shot before they, too, went down.
The agent and Argus stood up, backing up towards the door behind them in spite of the dead guards lying at their feet.
Three men entered the room. The two on either side of the third one wore the same clothing with a hockey mask, and their outfits seemed to be based off of the third one.
“Oh, there you are, Barty!” The man laughed, his words coming out in a slight Southern drawl. “We’ve been lookin’ all over for you.”
“Stoakes hired you, didn’t he?” Argus asked, fear creeping into his tone. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll double it.”
“And undo all this hard work?” the man asked, bending down to look at one of the guards, who’d fallen down in a sitting position.
“Who are-” the agent started, interrupted by the assailant firing a bullet into his knee. The agent fell against the wall with a scream, breathing heavily as he looked uncomprehendingly at his knee.
“Hey, the grownups are talkin’ here, limp-dick.”
Argus bolted for the door, bursting through into the next room and breaking into a run towards the elevator.
“Oh!” the man shouted gleefully. “I love it when they fight back!”
Pressing his finger over and over to the elevator button, Argus only took brief looks back towards the man, hoping against hope that the man, for whatever reason, wouldn’t come through the door.
After what felt like hours, but in reality was only seven seconds, the door opened and Argus threw himself in. As the door closed, he saw the man come through from the other side of the room, dragging Argus’s agent behind him by the collar.
“Where you think you’re goin’, tough guy?” the man shouted, firing off a single shot just as the door clicked shut and began moving.
The only sound that permeated the small room was Argus’s heavy breathing.
He didn’t know that, from the other side of the camera, Faba had opened his phone.
“That was…unexpected,” Morgan commented.
“I imagine our friend here feels the same,” Faba replied, finger gliding over his phone.
“Woah…what the fuck?” Argus fell back against the elevator wall. It had passed the prearranged lockdown room. Up and up the elevator went.
“I’ve always felt a bit like a music composer,” Faba said, though he spared no glance at Morgan. “Orchestrating all these little things.”
Argus pressed a button, but it had no effect. Regardless, he continued to press it, wiping one hand across his precipitated face, his breath coming out in quick, panicked huffs.
“My most joyous moment is when it all comes together, into a culmination of them all,” Faba started.
“Stop! Fucking stop!” Argus yelled. And, to his relief, it did indeed stop.
Argus sucked in a breath, putting one hand against the wall. When nothing happened, the air left his mouth in what sounded like a short laugh.
“The crescendo,” Faba finished, pressing another button on his phone.
A creaking noise echoed all around the elevator shaft, and Argus stilled.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, all at once, the elevator was falling.
Argus screamed, but there was nothing he could do.
Just as quick as it had started, it ended.
The elevator crashed into the bottom of the shaft, debris flinging in every direction it could.
Notes:
- This is the second and final mission in the game where the targets don’t appear in instinct and need to be found and identified before being marked.
- Alice Thorne is based in a building that is fronted as an escape room. She doesn’t travel far from the building.
- Something the player will find out about Alice Thorne is that she is easily paranoid. For one, she has a guard that will follow her around, posed as a civilian. For another, if Alice’s lockdown location is compromised, she will attempt to flee with her car.
- In order to abduct Alice, the player must knock her out and hide her body in the trunk of a car. Any car on the map fits the bill, in this case. However, the trunks can only be opened if the player has the car keys, or a lockpick.
- One easier way to spot Alice is to find a woman with a limp. She is forced to wear a leg brace for unspecified reasons.
- The country club owner is an associate of Mark Faba, though it is unclear if he is being blackmailed or doing so of his free will.
- Owen Wagner primarily stays inside the local Hope country club, but avoids any kind of sport related activities.
- On one of the upper floors in a restricted area are computers and servers set up for Wagner and his partner to quickly hack into things.
- Construction is going on on the eastern wing of the country club after someone set off fireworks to celebrate New Year’s early. One opportunity lures Wagner out there and can result in the player killing him.
- More food has arrived at the country club, which includes Wagner’s favorite jam. The player can use this to their advantage.
- Wagner frequently accosts the country club owner to see if his favorite jam has been unloaded.
- Wagner has a bit of a droopy right eye.
- David Schneck likes to stay in and around country club and is especially fond of playing games of golf.
- Schneck sometimes brings out a tablet to use, and talks technobabble to his bodyguard, who has no idea what he’s talking about.
- There is a hedge maze on the country club grounds that Schneck could be lured into.
- This mission takes place during the morning of New Year’s Eve.
- Victoria hangs out around the local playground during the mission. Sitting on the bench in the playground is the only exit during story mode.
- In the Post-Mission Cutscene, the assassin that went after Bartholomew Argus was hired by Mark Faba as part of his own convoluted plan to kill Argus. That said, while the assassin’s name is never said, his name is Edward Wade.
