Author's Notes: So...Absolution. I'm well aware this is NOT the favorite of many a Hitman fans, especially those who remember very fondly the older entries, Contracts and Silent Assassin. As someone who is equally a fan of both (Contracts to a lesser extent), I have to say, I REALLY enjoyed Absolution. I'll give you that it does show 47 with a more defined conscience than the older games (though I argue he always had one...to some extent), but I never found it to be unrealistically so. And I admittedly really liked the introduction of the character Victoria. I anticipated going in I would NOT, because who hasn't seen the "super ass-kicking teenage girl" done fifty thousand times before in movies and games. But if you pay attention, if you listen to the way she speaks, how she speaks, and hear what's she's saying, she's actually done quite well (plus, her voice actress is SUPERB). She's also an excellent vehicle for studying/picking apart the characters of Agent 47 and Diana, who are, let's face it, the only characters/things that actually matter in the Hitman universe (as far as plot).

This will be the first in my series of Hitman mini-fics, featuring the primary characters of the Hitman universe, as seen/perceived through the eyes of Victoria. The individual fics are short, almost choppy, to reflect the disjointed (and often aggravatingly vague) nature of the Hitman story. As it is told from the perspective of Victoria, a young teenager, the language errs on the side of childish, to emphasize Victoria's simple, inexperienced, and very isolated perception of reality. Each chapter will deal with a singular incident, almost exclusively from the setting of Diana's mansion from Absolution's first mission, "A Personal Contract."

I will warn you. Understanding some of what's addressed in my stories will require adequate understanding/knowledge of ALL Hitman titles released to date. (Except for Hitman GO. That one isn't necessary. But I urge you to play it all the same. IT'S FANTASTIC. :D)

Disclaimer: Hitman is © of I/O Interactive.

TV Time

Victoria's favorite pastime was watching old-time, family television.

The classic network airwaves were littered with them, shows like Bewitched, Leave it to Beaver and The Brady Bunch. They were silly and impractical shows, she knew (especially when pitted against the sensibilities of the modern world). But there was something soothing and reassuring in their pristine—if not unrealistic—purity. It was a taste of the kind of life she had never known, the kind of life that she was almost certain did not exist.

Modern television, she had learned, did not provide the same level of reassurance. There were dozens, perhaps even hundreds of family sitcoms and dramas, all with complexity and realism that far surpassed their more innocent counterparts of yesteryear. They were fast-paced, filled with action and suspense. The women roles were strong and haughty, the men's sarcastic and slick. They were predictable, in their own way, but with a lot of flare and flashy explosions and sex.

And yet, with all the glamour and special effects and seedy plot twists, the shows of "today" just could not compete with the charming simplicity of the happy, uncomplicated family. Shows where the father wore pressed suits and the mother kept pretty hats. Shows where children played ball and bought five cent taffy at the candy store. Shows where every episode was a moral, a lesson, something that taught children not to steal, lie, or fight. Shows where the most pressing teenage decision was who to invite to the school prom. Shows where everyone was beautiful and unsullied. Shows where families never fought, where fathers went to work and came home to kiss the mothers, where children always laughed and pets never ran away from home.

The families weren't weird. Or broken. The mother ran the home, cooked dinner, watched the kids. The dad drove to work, mowed the lawn, played golf. The kids went to school, rode bikes, and learned to grow.

It was so simple. So perfect.

Diana didn't cook. Diana, Victoria was fairly certain, had never so much as held a pot. She'd probably never poured water that wasn't from the bathroom sink. But, Diana did run the home. And she had a live-in chef, who prepared five-star meals every morning and night. And she was always present. They ate breakfast and dinner together. They read together. When Victoria worked on her studies, Diana worked on her...whatever she did as Handler for the ICA. And sometimes, Diana would brush her hair or paint her nails or take her shopping for a pretty dress.

47 didn't go to work everyday. But he did work, and what he did he did very well. Diana once told her he made a lot of money as an "Agent" for the ICA, and Victoria often wondered where the money went. Diana didn't need it. She had "more money than God," as her security staff often joked, and probably made a lot of money herself working as 47's personal Handler. He didn't seem like the frivolous type, and she would have bet life and limb that his downtime wasn't spent playing golf. But he did stop by to visit, now and then, and somehow Victoria knew, that when she stared out into the black nothingness of the night, her limbs resting over the railing of the mansion balcony, that somewhere, 47 stared back.

Exhausted, Victoria glanced at the clock. It was ten. Almost time for bed. She sighed, clamping her French studies book shut (Diana spoke fluent French and insisted she learn the same), rolling her shoulders to alleviate "study strain." She was just getting up from the table when Diana emerged from the back room. Wrapped snugly around her lithe frame was a very new and very expensive burgundy dress. She twirled once, making a slight "ta-da" motion with her hands.

"What do you think?"

Victoria nodded her approval. It looked fantastic, though she'd never known Diana to look anything but.

"Alright, but what about this?" She yanked a matching, burgundy hat off a nearby table, placing it ever-so-delicately on her magnificently coiffed head. "Too much?"

At this, Victoria smiled. The days of five cent taffy were gone. Problems weren't solved by wrinkling your nose. Her life was not the life of a perfect 50s' sitcom, nor was her "family."

But...it was pretty close.