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Romania wasn't a very nice place. Saddled directly between Russia and Italy, if there was to be any conflict within its borders, Romania would be crushed, mangled, and turned into scrap for the war effort. It, along with Belarus and Greece, formed the sole defense of any naval attack. Still, the precipice of war hadn't yet decimated all of Romania. At least, not where [i]she[/i] had been placed.

Six had been placed in Romania for as long as she could remember. She was an agent for [i]their[/i] interests. Whatever they said, she did. Not that she had a choice, anyways. Every question they asked gave no room to refuse. Not that she could refuse; no matter what she thought, she would always answer with a curt nod. There was no defiance in her. Her alien feelings of longing were discarded when they came up. What else could she do? She did what she was told and that was the only thing she did. It was the only way that she could survive.

When the young boy entered, she had, like always, been waiting for her next orders. Sitting alone in the corner, she had preoccupied herself by tossing a steel crocheting hook in the air, only to catch it on the way down. Then the question came. The answer to which was the same as always: a curt nod, barely making eye contact with her handler.

She grabbed a vinyl satchel from under her chair. Her little bag of tricks, to say the least. Consisting of mostly random knickknacks that she'd taken from previous missions, it was a helpful little bag of things. Although she didn't show it to her handler, she was giddy about her mission. Even if it was only temporary, even if she had to kill someone, it was the only brief period of time that she could call herself free.