Road to War Part II: Yes, Anastasia

If you know me so well, then tell me which hand I use

She has been haunted for as long as she can remember.  She's been haunted by ghosts of memories, of friends, of family, of allies, of enemies, and of those somewhere in between.  There are things she knows she will never escape, no matter what name she takes or where she chooses to hide out.  Some things that haunt her keep her awake at night, staring into the darkness.  And some things help her sleep, reminding her that there are those who care about her.  She remembers a time when nothing but satisfaction at a completed mission fell into the latter category, before anything fell into the former except wisps of memory.

She's made a name for herself, several times over.  She's killed and infiltrated and stolen secrets for decades, since she was an orphaned child with no choice.  Then one day she was given a choice.  Sometimes she reconsiders her decision to stay in this line of work; she could have gotten out.  She could still get out.  But it's all she knows.  And no one is better at it than she is.  So she stays, loyal to those whom she trusts, who trust her.  Her loyalty is not won by patriotism and ideals, but by the people who serve beside her.  If that is not enough to satisfy the men in suits who run the world, well, maybe she's better off lying low for a while.

Her legs stretch out in front of her, feet resting on the railing of her balcony.  The chair beneath her is wooden and warm, retaining the heat from the sun that set several hours ago.  It is comfortable here.  The world is quiet here.  It's been many years since she was last in this country, and many more since she acquired this safe house.  Things have changed drastically, but, here, they are always the same.  Or were, she thinks, glancing back into the doorway behind her.

She comes here to think.  Of all her safe houses all over the world, this is the one in which she places her greatest faith.  Securing it required going through dozens of backwater channels and she is absolutely certain that no one could find her here, even if they knew where to start looking.  And people are most definitely searching for her, after what happened today.  She may not be a ghost, but she knows how to move like one.  It is safe here.  For now.

Her legs moved rhythmically, steadily, as she ran at a speed she wouldn't be able to maintain for long.  But she had to get away, get away before she could be found.  She was being hunted, she knew, and she knew by whom.  He was one of the best, which she supposed should be flattering.  Of course, they had sent others after her, others who were not the best, and they were dead now.  So maybe they were just erring on the side of caution.

The narrow streets were difficult to maneuver, and the locals stared at her in annoyance and surprise as she whipped passed them.  Her cover was blown, and she made no attempt to pass as one of them.  It hadn't worked, anyway.  How long had it been since she had been secure?  Each cover had seemed to last only a matter of weeks before they found her again.  Was she getting sloppy?  Or were they just that desperate?

She supposed she had ruined one too many of their plans.  Not that such a thing had been her intention; she did what she was sent to do.  She followed orders.  She was not in charge of the missions, only seeing that they were finished.  Once, she had wanted to ascend the ranks and be one of those in charge.  But that feeling had passed and now, well, she took pride in a successful mission but the failures were wearing her down.  Or, more accurately, the nature of what she was sent to do was beginning to weigh on her.  Maybe she had just finally realized they were on the losing side, and her superiors refused to change tactics or accept this fact.

Her thoughts are cut off abruptly when she ran headlong into a cart an old man has just shoved into the street.  She rolled automatically, ignoring the stinging pain in her wrists and palms and knees before getting to her feet and continuing her run.  People shouted at her from behind, but she ignored them too.  The wings of panic fluttered in her chest as she heard a projectile whip passed her ear, far too close for comfort.  Instinctively, she searched for cover, and ducked into the nearest door she saw.