I have done a thing. The first chapter of my Hitman story is up and ready to be read.
Summary:
All over the world, those once thought to be untouchable wind up dead in unexplainable ways. An opera singer shot by his peer on stage with a prop gun during a rehearsal. An aristocrat smothered in his bed with no sign of forced entry. A sheriff found dead on the steps of a church following town-wide massacre. A CEO shot to death on the roof of an apartment complex. All cases with dead ends and no satisfactory answer. A web impossible to navigate. But at the center of it is Agent 47.
The ICA continues to shape the world from the shadows, taking in contracts and using Agent 47 and his handler, Diana Burnwood, to do them. All the while, the rich and powerful battle for dominance as a peril threatens to engulf them and, soon, the world as they know it.
Preview:
The three labradors sniffed the ground, slowly dragging him forward. He had trained them well. And they would not leave his side until he gave them his permission. His boots crunched against the leaves and the sticks, but he had no care if it gave his position away. It didn’t matter to him.
The moonlight shone through the trees above him As though a spotlight had been put on him. With a grin, he tilt ed his face up to catch the rays. For that moment, everything was perfect. It was like the world itself knew who he was and what he was destined for.
“Your eminence?” his earpiece chimed.
The moment was ruined.
Æthelstan sighed. He lowered his face. “Yes, what is it ?” he questioned. His fingers danced along his shotgun as he asked it.
“We’re down to one, your eminence,” the man on the other end revealed.
Æthelstan didn’t reply for a long moment. The prey were getting picked off faster than usual. That would not do. “So they have . Carry on , Mr. Gotha.”
“Of course, your eminence.”
Cuthbert Gotha went quiet and Æthelstan took a serene step forward. It had been an uneventful hunt thus far. His eyes scanned the treeline as he thought just how he could make this more exciting.
One of the labradors growl ed and Æthelstan stop ped . Finally .
“I know you’re here," he called out . In response, all he got was the wind. “ Do you want to carry on, then? The game ends with you.”
Æthelstan waited. But no response was forthcoming. They really thought they could get away.
For the first time since the hunt began, Æthelstan grin ned .
He took another step forward and the labradors kept pace with him. They wished to feast. But Æthelstan would only let them after the prey was found. He brought his lips together and whistled a single, long note.
He had forgotten how serene this could be. Once the prey was found, they would try anything they could to stay alive. To escape being slain. But it was always the same begging. That they ha d a family. Or claim ed to have money. But Æthelstan was never moved. And why would he be?
Perhaps if they were to show the same initiative as Mr. Gotha.
Æthelstan took another step forward and the labradors did the same. They began barking , the ferocious sound spilling out over the woods and Æthelstan pointed his double-barrel shotgun in the direction they were so enamored in.
“Ahhh, the painful route it is , then,” Æthelstan announced . He took another step forward. And just as his foot touched the ground, he heard it. A person took off in a sprint as they tried to escape the inevitable.
Æthelstan’s finger curled around the trigger and squeezed. A loud bang echoed all throughout the forest and he saw the figure lurch to the side as a hail of bark sprayed through the air.
The next sound that broke through was the scream. One of pure agony. Æthelstan’s expression took on a predatory grin as he continued his walk forward, keeping an unhurried pace . He stepped over an assortment of branches that lined the ground, heedless of the noises he made as they broke and snapped beneath his boots. The screams only further drowned them out.
Slowly, the man came into view. His hands clutched at the dirt as he tried to pull himself away, but it was fruitless. His body was covered in dirt and scratches…and blood. Æthelstan grimaced at the sight of the blood. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat.
“Please…” the man said. Æthelstan only dimly heard his begging. This part was both his favorite and least favorite part of the hunts.
Æthelstan turned his back to the man , to better avoid the sight of the blood pooling around his newest kill, and popped open his shotgun’s twin barrels. He removed the spent shell casings, carelessly dropping them to the ground, and put in a new pair. Reloaded, he then snapped the barrels back in place.
“I-I can give you wh-whatever you want!” the man tried to protest.
Æthelstan ignored him. Instead, he looked into the distant trees, his gaze rising higher and higher until he could see the moon. He envisioned how it shone its midnight spotlight on him.
Then he whistled. This time a singular, high note.
And the labradors were free.
The man screamed again. First in fear as the dogs pounced on him. Then in pain as they tore into his flesh , devouring him alive.