A.N. So this is a random idea I had- it actually started with Triela and a more "dark-gloomy alleyway" idea, but then I expanded it- and this was the first part that finished. I would love reviews and corrections, in case anything seems wrong or out of place. Or if you just want to give compliments- those are accepted too! Anyway, please read and review, and keep in mind this is somewhat AU as the Welfare Agency did not exist during WWII. This idea assumes that the Welfare Agency was opened a few years earlier (not that any of that technology got out to other countries, that is), and isstill based in Italy. This is Part 1 of 5 or 6.

5 Ways to End World War II

Part I Henrietta: Vienna

The little girl with the violin case nearly skipped as she and her older brother approached the gilded, glowing opera house. Her short brown hair and pale face where warmed by the red, cloak-like coat she wore over her evening wear, which matched the elegance of her brother's suit. They walked up the sweeping staircase the grand entry way, only a small part of the stream of people, until they reached the top and broke away. They stopping to greet the doorman with obvious familiarity before entering a side door- one for the staff, musicians, and performers. Her Amati case banged familiarly against her legs and she waited patiently for her brother to close then carefully lock the door. When he finished, he turned and smiled at her, as if reassuring her. She smiled back, hesitantly, as she followed him into the dark back halls of the sprawling theater.

Their shoes clacked firmly on the cold floor until they reached another door. Inside the room were massive shadowed shapes- huge cello cases, enormous harps, and an old grand piano- arrayed neatly and covered lovingly. The little girl headed purposefully toward the section of violins, looking carefully down the selection of instruments. Her Amati case lay at her feet. The girl began wandering down the row, brushing her hand gently along the tops of the cases until she abruptly chose one, opening the case, pulling it out, and settling it under her chin, drawing the bow softly across the strings.

The man ignored her perusal- she would chose what she needed. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the towering harp, and he laid a gentle hand on its beautiful, graceful frame.

Her small voice pulled him from his reverie.

"I'm ready now, Jose." He smiled down at her again. "I'll carry that for you." He lifted her well-worn Amati case, and they left the storage room.

The small girl swayed as her violin pierced the air of the Opera House, melding with the soloist onstage into a stunning work of art. As the notes and the curtain drew to a close, the audience exploded in applause for the two young artisans.

One took a bow. The other did not.

The young soloist onstage blushed as the Fuehrer and his elite, powerful audience roared their approval. The old men and their wives gathered in the Fuehrer's gilded, golden box gushed their praise.

"Amazing!"

"Spectacular!"

"Those two are credits to the Fatherland!"

Their congratulations were interrupted by a knock on the door. An aide stood to answer it, blocking the view of the visitor until her admitted a man. The man thanked him, and then smiled at the assembled officials. "My name is Jose." he said softly, but clearly. "And my little sister wanted to thank the Fuehrer for coming to see the show." He stood back and ushered the little girl in, recognizable as the violinist by her elegant red costume. She grinned shyly and bowed slightly to the Fuehrer.

"Thank you." she said, hands clasped tightly around the handle of her case. "It was an honor to be able to play for you."

The wives smiled indulgently, and a few even cooed as the girl bent down to open her case. The man, her brother, stepped behind her as if watching her unpack her violin.

One of the aides frowned slightly. "Are you going to give us a private rendition? But the show is-"

He fell, moments behind the Fuehrer himself as the girl stood with her blazing machine gun, and bullets flew through the box. Within moments, the red and gold gilt of the box was accented with the red of blood. Bodies sprawled across their elegant theater seats. The child paused. Coldly and professionally, she ensured her target was dead, then the witnesses. One man groaned from behind his wife's corpse and another gun coughed- this time the man's. He lowered the empty gun to his side, then followed the girl with his eyes as she first packed her gun away carefully, then checked her gown for stains. There were none. Her eyes met her brother's smiling ones as she looked up at him for approval, and the girl ducked her head to hide her happy blush. Then she picked up her case, and they left the same way they came- the little child violinist and her proud older brother.

No one heard the shots over the applause.