It had been a few uneventful months in Italy and now Nina was preparing to leave the country. She was sat with a contact at a cafe table in the middle of Rome and for all anyone knew, they were a couple of tourists. The man sat across from her nodded before passing her a flash drive. "That's everything you'll need," he spoke in German. Then he stood up and made his way into the nearby crowds of people.

Nina pocketed the drive and smiled to herself. Everything was going to plan and the information on the flash drive would only help. With it, she would be in a much stronger position and better off before her exposure back in Los Angeles. Taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee, she glanced around. She had never expected to visit the city for any reason but here she was. Soon she would be heading eastwards to Russia, where she had a meeting set up with a contact in St Petersburg. This was the same contact who had helped her escape from North Africa. He wanted the favour repaid and she was more than happy to do so.

As soon as she finished her coffee, she stood up and blended into the crowds. When by herself, she tried to pass more as a local than as a tourist and her Italian skills had improved a lot. Noticing a small side street that would give her a quieter route back to her hotel, she turned into it. The serenity of this street was far more to her liking. Not only did it allow her to walk with more haste, but it meant she could see and hear her surroundings better. As she made her way around a corner, she almost collided with someone who had been stood close to the wall. Stumbling back a few steps, she took a good look at the man. He was white and looked to be in his thirties, with black hair and dark brown eyes. For a moment she almost thought it was Tony Almeida, but this guy was noticeably taller than him. No questionable facial hair, either.

"Pardon me," she spoke in Italian before continuing to walk towards her hotel. Out of nowhere, the man tried to grab her arm but missed before she turned around and glared at him. She had no idea what he wanted but told herself to stay calm. He most likely had no idea how dangerous she was. Taking a few steps back, she glanced around to make sure he didn't have any friends with him.

"You're coming with me, Myers!" The man growled. Nina's eyes widened at his words. Not only did he know who she was but he spoke with an American accent. He didn't seem to be a federal agent, though.

Nina smirked at him. "I disagree," she replied before he began rushing towards her. Whilst she didn't have a gun, she did have a knife. Pulling it out and pointing it at him seemed to have little effect on his movement. Plunging it into his heart as he reached her did. Watching as he slumped to the ground, Nina could tell that he was dead. Crouching down, she wiped the knife clean on his shirt before beginning to search him. Fishing a passport out of his pocket, she stood up and ran down the street without looking back.

He had shaken her hand, offered her a drink and now he was heading over to a large table in the corner of his office. This man was her "other" boss and this was the first time she had visited this room. It was in the middle of an otherwise unremarkable office building in downtown LA. She had looked out of a window at one point and had been sure she could see CTU from where she stood. Reaching the table, he spent a few moments admiring the collection of knives on top of it. Selecting one, he picked it up and examined it. Nina watched as he handled the weapon with great care as if it were fine crystal or an antique. The fact that it seemed to be a generic knife was not one she was going to point out. "Have you ever stabbed someone, Nina?"

Nina looked at him and felt very uncomfortable. They were the only ones in his office but after what had happened in the tent, she wasn't sure what he was leading up to. "No, I haven't," she replied.

He nodded before placing the knife back down with great care. "I know we've taught you to use many different guns, but sometimes a knife is a more appropriate weapon."

Nina glanced at his knife collection before looking back at him. Guns were one thing, but knives? Whilst you could kill from some distance with a gun, you usually had to be up close with a knife. Guns were clinical and clean, knives were dirtier. More personal too, especially if you got blood all over you. An image of her slitting someone's throat formed in her mind and she fought it back down.

"Could you stab someone, Nina?"

Could? Did it even matter what she felt she was capable of? She knew that when the time came, and it would, she wouldn't have a choice in the matter. Not now, not after that other choice she had made some years before. She would have to go along with whatever gave her the best chance of surviving the situation. If that meant stabbing someone, then so be it.

"Yes," she replied.

Nina was lying on the bed, the passport not too far from her. She was giving herself a few moments to rest and calm her nerves, trying not to think of what she had done. Taking a deep breath, she sat up and took hold of the passport. Reading the man's name, she flung it over to the other side of the room. No way did she want to keep seeing his face. It was already burnt into her memory anyway like all the others she had killed.

Pulling out her phone, she could only wonder what this man had planned to do with her. "It's me, I need information on a David Jorgensen, born eighth June 1969, she spoke as soon as the contact answered. For a few tense moments she waited for a reply, unable to decide on which theory was the most likely. There were many possibilities and she didn't like a single one of them. Soon enough, her contact had gotten back to her. She had thanked him and was about to end the call when he spoke again.

"Wait, there's something else"

She was beginning to feel more nervous again but tried not to let it show in her voice. "What is it?"

"I found something relating to his time in the Army. I'll send it to your laptop," the contact replied.

Intrigued, Nina walked over to the table near the window and logged into her laptop. Opening the encrypted email as soon as it had arrived, she stared at the photograph in disbelief. It showed a group of American soldiers in what looked like an Army base and she recognised two of them. Stood next to each other were David Jorgensen and Joel Oakley. Two men she had killed before locking them away in tiny little boxes. Like all the others before them.

She slammed the laptop shut and stared at it before whispering to herself. "What the hell is going on?"