I’m in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Berlin. Spindly lasers and spotlights sweep across a shadowy dancefloor, revealing a sea of bobbing heads hypnotised by throbbing techno music. The music is so loud, and the bass so deep, it makes my headphones vibrate. But I’m not here because Agent 47 has given up contract killing and joined the German rave scene, even though that would be a pretty funny way to end the story. I’m here to murder a team of deadly assassins who are also trying to murder me.