If you're reading this, I sincerely thank you for checking out my first fan fiction.. like ever. I've mostly stuck to writing scripts and doing machinima for my Youtube channel, but on a whim decided to seriously try to write something. This is the product.

Arcade isn't a new character for me. She derived from my GTA Online character, which in turn evolved into a character for this "Chain Story" I contributed to on GTAForums, then from there I made a machinima based on some.. dramatized exploits I've done with my friends. I'd post the links but you can't even copy/paste! If you're curious anyhow, just google "Impulse GTA V Machinima" and you'll find some of the stuff I've done.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read.

One

Leftwood, Alderney, Liberty City

Monday

6:30 AM

The target looked a lot older than in the photographs. The deep yellow glow from the streetlight accentuated the deep lines in his face and pallid, almost sickly complexion. To Arcade, the man seemed on edge, either high on nervous energy or maybe just had one too many cups of coffee from the local Bean Machine. But whatever the reason was, it wasn't going to matter thirty seconds from now.

The name on the dossier was Levi Stratov. Latvian national. 58 years old, 5'9 inches tall. 160 pound, he was right handed. No noticeable scars and his hair were graying. Cut short and neat, as was his beard. His eyes were dark blue, and he wore glasses for his shortsightedness. He was smartly dressed, a dark suit beneath his overcoat, polished shoes. With both hands, he clutches a small leather attaché case to his stomach.

At the entrance to the alleyway in Leftwood, Stratov glanced over his shoulder, an amateurish move, too obvious to trip up a shadow, too quick to register one if he did. In Arcade's experience, people often paid more attention to what could be behind them, instead of what lay ahead. Stratov didn't see the woman standing in the shadows just a few yards away. The woman who was there to kill him.

Arcade waited until Stratov had passed out of the light before squeezing the trigger with smooth, even pressure.

Two suppressed thwacks interrupted the early morning stillness. Stratov was hit in the sternum, twice in rapid succession. The bullets were low powered, subsonic 5.7mm but larger rounds could have been no more fatal. Copper-encased lead tore through skin, bone and heart before lodging side by side between vertebrae. Stratov collapsed backward, hitting the ground with a dull thud, arms outstretched, head rolling to one side.

Arcade melted out of the darkness and took a measured step forward. She angled the Hawk & Little Five-seveN and put another bullet through Stratov's temple. He was already gone, but in Arcade's opinion, there was no such thing as overkill when on the job.

The expended cartridge clinked on the pavement and came to a rest in a puddle shimmering with sodium-orange light. A quiet whistling from the twin bullet holes in Stratov's chest was the only other sound. Air was escaping from the still inflated lungs-the last breath he never had a chance to release.

The morning was cold and dark, the approaching dawn only beginning to tinge the sky with orange-purplish colours. Arcade was practically in the heart of Alderney, in a township called "Leftwood". It was a multi-cultural, working class place, lined with winding avenues and various back streets. The alleyway Arcade was in with Stratov's body was secluded enough, no overlooking windows but Arcade spent a few minutes making sure nobody had observed the killing. No one could have heard it, with the subsonic ammunition and the suppressor, the noise of each shot would have been muffled, with only the noticeable sound being the slide racking back after each pull of the trigger, but even with that it wouldn't stop the random chance of someone deciding this particular alleyway was a good place to relieve themselves.

Satisfied she was alone; Arcade squatted down next to the body, careful to avoid the gore draining from the quarter-inch exit wound in his victim's temple. Using her left hand, Arcade unzipped the attaché case and checked inside. The item was there as she expected but otherwise the case was empty. Arcade took the flash drive and slipped it into her coat pocket. Small and innocuous, it barely seemed reason enough to have the man killed, but seemingly it was. One reason was as good as another, Arcade reminded herself. It was all a matter of perspective, atleast that's what liked to tell herself.

She frisked the body thoroughly to confirm there was nothing else she should know about. Just pocket litter and a wallet, which Arcade opened and tilted into the dim, yellow light. It contained the usual: credit cards, a driver license in the Latvian's name, cash as well as a faded photograph of a younger Stratov with the wife and kids. Arcade exhaled out and pursed her lips.

Slipping the wallet back into Stratov's pocket, Arcade rose back to her feet, mentally rechecking how many rounds she'd fired. Two to the chest, one to the head. 17 left in the Five-seveN's magazine. It was simple math but protocol nonetheless. She knew the day she lost would be the day she squeezed the trigger only to hear the dreaded dead man's click. She'd heard it before when the gun had been in another's hand and she'd promised herself then that she would never die like that.

Her gaze swept the area again for signs of potential exposure. There were no people or cars in sight, no footsteps to be heard. Arcade unscrewed the suppressor and placed it into a pocket of her coat. With the suppressor in place, the gun was too long to be properly concealed and too slow to draw with speed. She turned on the spot, locating and retrieving the 3 empty cartridges from the ground before the spreading blood reached them. Two were still warm but the one from the puddle was cool.

The half-moon was bright in the sky above, somewhere beyond the stars the universe continued forever, but from where Arcade stood, the world was small and time was all too short. She could feel her pulse, slow and steady within the morning air but maybe 4 whole beats per minute above her resting heart rate. She was surprised it was so high. She wanted a drink. These days, she always did.

She left the alley, shoes virtually silent on the hard, uneven ground. She'd been in Alderney for a week awaiting the go-ahead-and she was glad the job was almost over. All that remained was to stash that item tonight and contact that broker with it's location. It hadn't been a difficult or even risky contract; if anything it had been simple, easy. A standard kill and collect. She felt it was beneath her, but if the client was willing to pay her outrageous fee for a job any amateur freelancer could have fulfilled, it wasn't Arcade's place to argue. Though something in the back of her mind warned her that it had been too easy.

Before she reintegrated herself with the city, she took one last look at the man she'd murdered without word or conscience. In the dim light, she saw the wide, accusing stare of her victim staring after her. The whites already black from the hemorrhaging.