Download - Walkthrough To Hitman Series

slow, two heavily armed bikers strolled out to greet him. They positioned themselves on either
side of the truck so their M16s could put him in a crossfire.
But Agent 47 wasn't looking for trouble–not yet–and plastered a friendly smile on what was
supposed to be Mel Johnson's face as he brought the truck to a halt. The side windows whirred
as they went down. A man with the look of a part-time bodybuilder sauntered up to the driver's
side. He had bushy eyebrows, a walrus-style mustache, and a pugnacious jaw.
“So,” he said conversationally, as the second biker stuck his head in through the passenger side
window. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I'm the Reaper,” 47 replied with what he hoped was a sufficient amount of gravitas.
“Yeah?” the man replied. “I've heard of you. They call me Nix. And that's Joey. They told us
you was comin' on a bike.”
“That was the plan,” the assassin agreed soberly. “But the chopper broke down, so I borrowed
this.”
There was a burst of static from the other side of the truck, followed by some unintelligible
conversation as Joey brought a walkie-talkie up next to his ear. After listening for a moment, he
replaced it at his side.
“That was Skinner,” the biker proclaimed importantly. “The Big Kahuna wants to start the
meeting, but they're waitin' on this guy.”
“Sounds like you'd better get a move on,” Nix advised. “But nobody gets in without a chip.”
Agent 47 nodded, plucked the $500 casino chip out of his vest pocket, and handed it over. Nix
produced a disc of his own, compared the two, and returned the first one to “Johnson.”
“You're good to go, Reaper,” Nix said. “Hold a sec while Joey backs the grader out of the way.
You're the last guy on the list, so we might as well escort you in.”
There was a pause while Joey fired up the grader's diesel engine, backed the big machine off the
road, and waited for the pickup to pass. Then he moved it back into place. Five minutes later
Nix and Joey straddled their choppers as they waved the truck forward.
The choppers threw up a cloud of dust, and quickly moved into the lead, so 47 eased his foot off
the gas and let the pickup fall back a ways. That allowed him to see better as the threesome
blew through a second checkpoint and sped toward the odd collection of structures where the
meeting was being held.
A metal silo stood next to a run-down barn that was fronted by a new double-wide mobile
home. A variety of small sheds in various states of disrepair were nestled here and there, as a
forest of tall weeds did what it could to consume a row of junked cars. The big motor coach that
Agent 47 had seen earlier, a red Mercedes, and four brightly painted motorcycles were parked
off to the west side of the seedy complex. All of them wore a fine patina of Yakima road dust.