Download - Walkthrough To Hitman Series

very different performance that took place many years before.
It was winter. The asylum's heating system had never been that good, and the air inside the
gymnasium was cold. So much so that the boy named 47 could see his breath as he followed his
brothers through double doors and out onto the worn hardwood floor.
Once they had lined up in front of the boxing ring, the boys were introduced to an audience that
consisted of Dr. Otto Wolfgang Ort-Meyer's friends and associates. Ort-Meyer was the man
who–along with four former legionnaires–was responsible for having created the clones. But
even though the boys shared the same DNA, experience had exerted a profound impact on
personality, granting each brother a decidedly different identity.
The visitors, some two dozen in all, wore ski parkas, expensive overcoats, and in some cases,
furs. They were seated on padded bleachers, and each was equipped with a thermos filled with
coffee, tea, or hot buttered rum. They clapped as each boy was introduced, took a step forward,
and stood with his chest out and shoulders back while statistics regarding his past fights were
read out loud. Each round of applause was followed by a rustle of activity as members of the
audience placed bets on the various bouts.
47's record was well above average, and he was rewarded with more applause than most.
Yet that was nothing compared to the standing ovation reserved for number 6. Not only was he
the asylum's most accomplished kickboxer, but 47's personal nemesis. No matter what the boy
did to avoid notice, 6 consistently sought him out, called him names like “my little bitch,” and
constantly taunted him. Which was why 47, who was slated to battle 6 during the third round,
felt a persistent emptiness in the pit of his stomach.
Once 6 had been introduced and collected his applause, he turned to wink at 47, as if to say,
“Here it comes!” before taking a step back into line.
Some of the visitors laughed when they saw that, and the betting was brisk as they put even
more money on 6.
The final introductions were made. Then, once the process was complete, the boys were ordered
to sit on the cold metal chairs that lined one side of the elevated boxing arena.
The ring measured 20©20 feet square, stood three feet off the floor, and was equipped with an
inch of canvas-covered padding. Stained canvas, because it was difficult to get the blood out of
the material, no matter how hard the boys scrubbed. There were four posts, each of which stood
a little more than four feet high, to which the side ropes had been secured.
Number 47 hated the ring–and more than that, he was afraid of it–but knew better than to let
his emotions show. Fear equated to weakness within the closed society he lived in, and
weakness invited attack. If not from 6, then from one of his toadies or a wannabe. So all he
could do was sit there and shiver, as the headmaster gave the first two combatants their
instructions, then left the ring.