the shady file I
the HITMAN & the REAPER
“Robson! Prepare my ride,” the hitman said, as he pressed the intercom button.
“At once, Sir!” the voice on the other end replied.
The hitman grabbed his binoculars, and briefly looked at the neon blue wing tips one last time. He quickly confirmed their continued presence and general location, before walking off the balcony. He made his way to the large armory located in the center of the mansion, and brought up its holographic interface with a single, swift motion. He selected his favorite power armor, one that was light and flexible, yet almost as durable and impenetrable as the heaviest armor he had in his possession. He stepped into the armor’s central closet, and waited patiently as a number of mechanical arms attached and fitted the armor to his body. He released the various holsters in the armor once he walked out of the closet, and began browsing his extensive weapon selection, wondering what to take with him on this particular excursion. He didn’t expect to be away for too long. One, however, could never be too careful.
He attached two plasma pistols into the holsters in his legs, and a foldable sawed off shotgun, loaded with fire rounds, into the holster that came out of the back of his waist. The hitman then grabbed two large guns, a laser rifle and a plasma rifle, and attached them to the two holsters on each of his shoulder blades. He inserted a few knives, some extra batteries, and an assortment of grenades, into the smaller holsters that came out of his forearms. Before leaving the armory, the hitman also added two hidden blade attachments to both his arms. He also juiced up the power armor’s main battery before inserting a personal shield attachment into it.
The hitman checked the various components of his armor, as well as the various guns he’d chosen for his outing, as he walked to the mansion’s main door. He put on his helmet - an immaculately detailed, shiny, black monstrosity, one that perfectly matched the colors of his power armor, and was shaped to resemble a smiling, fanged skull, with eyes and nostrils that glowed a bright red - as he exited the mansion’s primary building.
“Your ride, Sir,” Robson said, before handing over the reins of the horse to the hitman.
The hitman examined the creature carefully. The upper part of its body was fully covered with armor, as were most of its legs. The underside of the creature, however, had been left exposed. The armor that adorned it was as black as his, but the various lights on it weren’t neon red, like his were. They were bright gold instead. Each piece of the armor was carefully outlined with multiple slivers of brightly lit neon, in highly intricate patterns. The horse itself was no slouch either. It was a fiercely muscular creature, with legs that were as fast as the wind itself. Its tail was bushy and long, and as black as its coat, and rather restless as well. The helmet the horse had been fitted with was equipped with both blinder and night vision modes, and the slits of its visors glowed even more brightly than the rest of the creature’s armor. Just like the hitman, two strong streams of light emanated from the creature’s nostrils, with the only difference being their color, which was gold instead of blood red.
“Everything has been thoroughly checked, Sir!” Robson said, as the hitman began to examine the horse’s legs, which were armored till the creature’s hooves.
“Better safe than sorry, Robson,” the hitman replied, as he continued running diagnostics on the various pieces of the creature’s armor.
“That will be all, Robson,” the hitman said, a few minutes later, as he jumped on to the horse’s saddle.
The hitman grabbed the reigns that extended out of the saddle, and gently steered the horse towards the mansion’s gate. He let the horse walk at its own pace well past the gate, allowing it to get used to the armor it had been outfitted with. He worked the horse’s reigns, and barreled towards his destination at full speed, once he sensed that the horse had acclimated itself to everything that had been put on it.
“I’m coming, old friend…” he muttered, as he rode the horse. “I’m coming…”