X : Muerta Las Vegas

It had been a month or more since The Amateur’s last mission. He was beginning to hope the syndicate had gotten the message but if there’s one thing The Amateur has learnt, it’s that one should never begin to hope. That and you should not get your car repairs done at a garage which didn’t appear to be there yesterday. When The Amateur had located the rattling sound as coming within the fluffy dice astride his mirror, a single tap knocked them open and out fell this card.

Three people to save before they send someone else against them and a free week in Vegas. The Amateur mobilised grudgingly.
The Amateur unfolds himself from his minivan hacking and coughing from the thousand-mile trip. Apparently something bad happened here as the air is practically orange, but the fireworks are nice.

Well by nice, The Amateur means shit. Um. The Amateur heads inside the hotel Shamal where some kind of Egyptian robot speaks their welcome speech to the air where The Amateur was only a few seconds before but he has no time for this, he must check in! The check-in desk is manned by the same robots but The Amateur successfully retrieves his key without wrenching off a head and revealing the truth. The pacifism has side-benefits. The Amateur peruses the shows available on his stay.

Wait, what? “See this card? Defensively naíve but strong in the tackle and OH LOOK IT’S GONE!” While The Amateur ponders a longer routine on this subject, a limo pulls up outside the hotel and…who is that…

It’s the science man he was meant to kill! The Amateur will act as a guardian angel but instead of wings he is bald. Spotting that his “real” bodyguard doesn’t seem keen on following him into the lift, The Amateur starts humming I Will Always Love You under his breath and dives through the doors in time to join him for the trip. Two men enter!

One man leaves!

Then The Amateur leaves another floor down, content in the scientist’s safety on the eighth floor. He finds his room with a lovely balcony view. And a lovely view of balconies.

Hmm, wasn’t Schmutz staying over that way? The Amateur had better warn him too. No point trying the door or knocking or whatever, The Amateur knows by now that will never work. Now a perilous journey around the outside of a hotel, that’s foolproof. Preliminary investigations reveal that the people in the rooms on the way might object to a man of the night wandering through their property so The Amateur finds a safe way to distract them.

Look, it was either that or start a fire, and The Amateur is above that. As people panic and gather in the lobby, he leaps, rolls, ducks and, uh, sidles across. Now what was the reason Schmutz was wanted dead. Oh yes, the briefcase.

It contains some manner of sensitive material. Maybe if The Amateur were to destroy the material, he could prevent people from coming after him in future. He fishes out a explosive mine, places it in and prepares to blow the charge when suddenly footsteps sound the return of the Hendrik. The Amateur leaps into a wardrobe, getting only a few coathangers in the unmentionables. By the time he’d regained his breath, the South African was gone but, uh, so was the briefcase. Oh this is not going well, if The Amateur detonates it now it’ll take out whoever is near! The Amateur hurries downstairs to see if he can head him off before collateral gets involved. Turns out the robot wasn’t lying, they do have many fun attractions here.



…additional gambling!

But The Amateur cannot settle and a thought strikes him, what if he is in the private lounge. As he thinks this, a tired-looking security guard comes running to the lifts with a briefcase. For the greater good, my friend, The Amateur has to stop you.

Unfortunately all it contains is diamonds. Well maybe The Amateur can return them to Schmutz in exchange for the material and detonate it somewhere safely. He’ll just check this VIP area…

Okay, okay, you don’t want The Amateur on your premises, don’t push him, DON’T PUSH HIM.

The lesson here is not to put a pressure-sensitive detonator in a top pocket as it is prone to being triggered by over-zealous bodyguards. It’s too late, the suitcase is gone but so, from the looks of the remains, are two of The Amateur’s “targets”. Oh cruel and melancholy fate, he must warn the Scientist and convince him to leave, maybe get him a false beard and enormous sunglasses. Oh he’s got a beard. Do they sell bald chin caps? The security guard from the lift gets him to the eighth floor but the police are not budging. Nobody allowed up here. The Amateur offers him the diamonds and is outraged to find this the policeman to have a hardline stance on bribery.

The Amateur hopes no-one needs to use that lift in the near future. He should be fine though. Okay, so the scientist has security guards all around. Why must he make it so difficult to defend himself. It’s looking like the balconies again. The Amateur will need a keycard…

…and an empty adjacent room. Time to play pin-the-syringe-on-the-oblivious-man.

Okay so good news, The Amateur makes it across to the science-man’s balcony. Bad news would be he has a guard watching the balcony. Grumble.

Oh dear, they’ve spotted The Amateur. Fibre-wire at the ready! Save the scientist!

Oh for the love of…why does The Amateur not watch where he’s pointing that thing. The Amateur has to get out of here. Away. Far, far away. He is not safe.

Maybe he’ll use the other lift…


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