Paris, 1922. The Seine by night was by far her favourite place to come to. Suddenly, there was a noise. She quickly hid the medallion in her hand, as she breathed quietly but heavily... The sound of the blade was a harsh, quick sound. The metal quickly bore its way into the flesh, the pristine white fabric turning a dark shade of red in a matter of seconds. In no time, she lay on the ground, her hand open, the medallion gone.