XII : Albino House

The Amateur did not have long to wait for his next assignment. Driving home in the, uh, escape vehicle that he totally didn’t steal, he picked up the same rattling. He looked up – no dice. He pressed play on the stereo – nothing. He stopped the car and looked behind him. On the back was a nodding dog. The Amateur hates nodding dogs. The exploded remnants yielded this partially charred card.

This is it. The Amateur has a chance to take down the world’s most feared assassin, and his paymaster.
“Next stop, Washington! Amateur awaaay!” he cried, pointing his nailgun at the road ahead. Shame that said pointing stopped him from steering around that tree.

A hasty A&E trip and a thirty-hour coach trip later, The Amateur was there, with another tour party. He did so miss the tour parties.

One of the women breaks off to have a smoke behind the coach in this ludicrously small parking lot. Actually how the hell did the coaches get in here. Um, anyway. The Amateur takes the opportunity to plant explodium into her luggage. Worst case scenario (ahaha, because it’s a suitcase), she’ll ping something on the metal detector, get arrested for terrorism and create a bit of a distraction, this place looks very well-guarded.

Unfortunately she gets through just fine. This reminds The Amateur that he’s going to have to ditch Naily again to get through that dratted detector. Should be safe behind the coach.

Oh no, oh no, The Amateur is not having his nailgun taken by the more eagle-eyed members of the US military. Give!

Right, that solves the metal detector thing and hopefully a person can remain hidden behind that coach when a small gun could not. Hopefully. The Amateur decides to take in the enormous White House museum.

A magical three minutes of presidential portraits. Anyway, action time!

Guards seem to have the run of the place so The Amateur moves noisily and obviously through the East Wing without arousing suspicions. Ooh, a trellis.

The Amateur continues across the roof, pausing to allow a fellow nailgun-wielder time to just look out of a window into the rain for two sodding minutes oh god the arm-induced cramp move!

To get into the West Wing, you need either an agent or a keycard so The Amateur’s next job is to find one of those. Watching people come and go from the roof he sees the evil assassin’s paymaster leaving the Wing with a small yappy-type dog.

The Amateur prepares swiftly, racing downstairs past curiously lax security right into the central room

Basically every second thing is a flag. It’s so no matter how you’re photographed in here, you end up looking patriotic. Now the central room has a tiny passage linking it to the next room, which seems a good place to hide a body. And here comes the man himself.

The Amateur is not adjusting his collar there. Newly-equipped with West Wing keycard and matching suit…

…the designers of this house did pretty damn well, there’s no corpse-caskets at all, so he gets stowed under a window with a “do not disturb” sign. Also, naked. The Amateur heads in to find his assassin.

The Amateur believes he is getting close and sure enough, the Oval Office is occupied.

He is good. He doesn’t try to seduce The Amateur, or offer him a crazy duel, he just explodes the door and runs away. Taking inspiration from Chumbawumba, The Amateur gets up again and gives chase. Surely he’ll make some kind of cinematic error.

The fire alarms are blaring and this means everyone is flooding into the bits of the house they previously were ignoring, which means they’re finding certain suspicious-looking bodies. The, uh, the vice-president one in particular gives them a bit of alarm. However, The Amateur is nothing if not good at running and makes it to a vantagepoint where he can just see the top of a bald, badly-toupéed head.

Now if The Amateur were to stick his head out there it would likely return with an extra sinus so what other option is available…throwing stuff! After twenty or so coins he accepts that it’s going to take heavier firepower. Never take a nailgun to a gun fight, they say, but this isn’t a gun fight now.

It’s a fire fight. Tipping the part of his head where a hat would be at the nailgun-wielding decorators that run in to investigate the noise, The Amateur sets a course for freedom!

With that assassin down, and Mr 47’s friends apparently already taken out, there can’t be many more.


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