Hitman Vs Hitman Agent 47 ((link)) -

“I don’t stop walking, Diana. That’s the difference between them and me.”

The Chameleon moved first—not for his guns, but for the chandelier chain. He yanked it, plunging the room into darkness. 47 dropped low, ears straining. A whisper of fabric. A floorboard creaked to his left.

“Who?”

“Diana,” 47 murmured. “He’s clearing his own security.”

One strike. Clean. Silent.

The suite door was ajar. Inside, the air smelled of gun oil and whiskey. A single lamp illuminated a circular table. Sitting at the table, swirling a glass of amber liquid, was a man in a grey suit. The Chameleon. He was unarmed—or appeared to be.

“Then he knows to be afraid,” 47 replied, loading his custom Silverballers. hitman vs hitman agent 47

A glass shattered. 47 rolled, felt a bullet graze his shoulder—a warning shot. The Chameleon wasn’t trying to kill him quickly. He was playing .