Franz- Kugelmugel
Andrei- Moldova
...
I swear this is the last story I'll start (apart from the nyo robul I've promised to start)! I'll only be updating from now on, and will hopefully finish something this year. Another au between myself and tumblr user peteradnan, dubbed 'spytalia', following Sealand and Kugelmugel as adult spies and brother-in-laws. If you want to look through art on either of our tumblrs, simply type the word 'spytalia' in our blogs and you'll find it, though there are heavy spoilers. It's safe to say we're pretty excited and I hope this fic lives up to all the hype the art generated.
So, pairings for the story! It's trnsea and ladkug focused, with side pairings of robul, luxmold, sufin, and some hints at aushun. And there are a lot of warnings too, so please avoid this fic if you dislike blood, guns, death (lots of death), ocs for both micronations and actual nations, poisons, car accidents, murder and nyo nations.
If you're not phased by any of those, then by all means, continue.
…
"This is stupid," Peter grumbled as he tugged at his shirt.
"But necessary," Franz sighed next to him, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead, wearing a grim expression.
"I know, I know, to get evidence and all." Peter sunk further into his seat, faintly admiring the snugness of the leather as their car glided smoothly across the tarmac. Outside, headlights danced across the rain-spattered road as traffic whizzed past and street lights glared down at them. This was a wealthy area of town, illustrated by the vast mansions they passed, with neat gardens and ornate gates to shut out the world. Few had lights in their windows, and Peter noted the unfriendly, derelict, presence most carried. He wondered how many of these dwellings hid criminals, smugglers and dealers who'd become prosperous from the illicit items they bought and sold, and murders they committed without a second glance, and promised himself that he'd flush them out. Every one.
But first things first. He already knew one possible criminal, and it was his job to catch the bastard red-handed.
He stuffed a pair of small pistols into his jacket, in secret pockets sewn into the satin that were almost undetectable if briskly searched, though a more thorough examination of his clothes could spell a death sentence. However, the chances were that that shouldn't be a worry, if what Peter knew about this man's lax security measures were correct.
"Do you remember the plan?" asked Franz, glancing over at him sceptically. The Austrian wore a glittering blue dress, his long hair tumbling down his back as diamonds dripped from his neck and ears and coloured contacts hid his lilac eyes. Foundation distorted his face into a feminine mask, altering the shape of his cheekbones- and hiding the small, recognisable mole under his eye- whilst eye shadow, blusher and lipstick finished the picture. If Peter didn't loathe him so much, he might even go as far to admit Franz Edelstein was beautiful. But he would never bring himself to pay his brother-in-law such a compliment.
"Of course!" he rolled his eyes, "I'll be fine. You just focus on keeping Im Yong Soo distracted as long as you can."
"Oh, I'm sure I'll manage that," he purred, playing with a silvery lock.
There was an awkward silence before Peter spoke up again.
"Fair play to you for doing this in drag though," he commented.
"Oh I don't mind at all," Franz chuckled, "I like being beautiful, it's art! People will be looking out for two male spies, not a man and his glamorous, female companion. Besides, it's not like the boss has many opportunities to make dresses."
"I don't think he should have any opportunities to make anything," grumbled Peter, lifting the bottom of his blazer to reveal a large darn in his shirt; "look at this! I mean, the clothes are quality and all, but he keeps running out of materials and using scraps! It ruins the image!"
"I can hear everything, you know?" growled a voice in his earpiece.
"Agent Patch!" Peter exclaimed, "I was just…"
"I know full well what you were doing, Agent Seagull," their boss, Andrei Radacanu, sighed, "can you please just focus on the mission?"
"Of course sir!" said Franz, and Peter scowled.
"Good. Oh, and Agent Seagull?"
"Yes..?"
"Try not to do anything stupid or reckless."
"Noted, sir." Peter stuck out his tongue, rolling his eyes and folding his arms in a sulk, deciding not to bring up the fact that everything he and Franz did for a living could be considered 'reckless'. Every mission provided a plethora of opportunities to be tortured and killed. Still, it was good pay so he wasn't going to complain.
"Shush, we're here," Franz whispered excitedly, pulling into a driveway bordered by high, white walls, joining the queue of expensive cars leading to an elaborately-decorated mansion. Unlike the others along the street, this house was bright and cheerful, lights shining through all the ground floor windows as groups streamed into the building. Peter let out a whistle.
"Well he's certainly been spending…" he commented as the pair drove past a marble fountain. The car stopped in front of the steps leading to the front doors, and Franz sauntered out, tossing his keys to the waiting valet and the two agents were ushered into the shining, crowded, hallway illuminated by a glistening chandelier. Peter handed their forged invitations over, smiling over at his partner.
"So, Miss Maria Héderváry," he began, using Franz's nom de plume, "ready to party?"
"Of course, Mr William Cook." Franz took his hand and led him into the main living room, where crowds of finely-dressed people were milling about, drinking and talking. Waiters wove between them with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, and in the corner, a swing band played lively music. Peter and Franz exchanged glances, nodding before walking off in separate directions, stopping to chat briefly with anyone who greeted them. They tried not to let their impatience show, especially since they weren't on any real time limit. Why plant suspicion on themselves for no reason?
Peter turned around to find Franz heading towards the buffet table and groaned, dashing after him.
"Oh no you don't," he hissed in the other's ear, grabbing his arm.
"But, torte!"
"Franz Gottlieb Edelstein, do you job properly."
"Fine, but please try to refrain from calling me Franz. Are you trying to give us away?"
Peter cursed his mistake, wandering off again.
Franz, meanwhile, picked up a slice of cake, ignoring the glare his partner threw at him from across the floor, eyes scanning the room for the host. He soon spotted Im Yong Soo, the millionaire in a navy-blue Prada suit, talking animatedly to one of his guests. Franz chewed his snack slowly as he considered his next move, watching Peter slip through a side door, unnoticed.
…
"Go upstairs and it should be the third door on your left," Andrei hissed at him, "from the plans on his computer, Agent Yogurt predicts what you're looking for will be there."
"Noted," Peter clawed at a lock of hair so it covered his ear piece, then weaved in and out of partiers chatting on the stairs, climbing up to the first floor. It was quieter here; even Peter's footsteps were muffled as he trod over thick, red carpet. The hall was dim and empty, everyone else gathered downstairs to be near the beloved host, hoping to gain the favour of such a rich and powerful man.
Previous, near-fruitless, months of long, dull observations, questioning and infiltration had provided mere snippets of Im Yong Soo's life, but Peter knew he was influential, having contacts in an estimated fifteen countries, smuggling everything from diamonds to drugs through Schengen boarders and selling them on to various gangs and crime rings. His latest batch of illicit purchase was what Peter hoped to find now, and what he hoped would provide enough cold, hard evidence to finally send Yong Soo to prison.
He stopped in front of the door, slipping on a pair of gloves and turning the handle. It was locked, much to his dismay, but thankfully not alarmed. Peter shrugged, pulling out a wire and getting to work.
…
Franz finished his slice of cake, tossing the napkin into a nearby bin and wiping his mouth before approaching the now-solitary Yong Soo. As he walked, he stuffed his earpiece into a little pocket sewn into one of the layers of his dress, so the other wouldn't see it.
He stood leaning against the fireplace, mouth pulled into a thin line as he looked down at his shoes. Franz frowned. He thought this was supposed to be a happy occasion. Was the man putting on a mask for his guests? Was his hospitable temperament hiding anxieties and fears? Were there already cracks in his rather infantile business? He put on a smile and approached the man.
"Hey there," he began, standing next to Yong Soo and brushing against his shoulder, "this is one hell of a party."
"You think?" Yong Soo broke into a warm smile, eyes shining, "thank you very much."
"Must've cost a lot," Franz commented, looking around whilst Yong Soo blushed and shrugged.
"A little, but I like to splash out, especially if it attracts sophisticated young ladies such as yourself." He winked and Franz smiled, placing an arm on his shoulder.
"Don't rely on your money to attract people," he said with fluttering eyelids, "surely your looks alone should be enough to leave you swamped by women, am I right?"
"Sure. Thank you, miss..?"
"Maria."
"Well, Maria, excuse my poor German, but you are very beautiful," Yong Soo cupped a hand under Franz's chin, tracing circles over his cheek with a thumb. A small wave of panic rippled through Franz as he wondered if his make up would rub off, revealing that telltale mole. But Yong Soo just gave a flirtatious smile, licking his lips.
"Thank you," Franz squeaked, suppressing a nervous giggle, taking the businessman's hand in his and placing it by his side, drawing nearer so his chest was pressing against the other's, "I am aware though."
"Confidence, huh? How incredibly sexy," Yong Soo purred.
"So, tell me about yourself," Franz drew away, throwing a coy smile in his direction.
"Not much to say. Born in Daegu, studied abroad in France and Switzerland, started my own business, travelled the world…"
"So you never settled down with anyone?"
"There have been people," Yong Soo sighed, "never stuck around long though."
"That's a shame…"
Yong Soo laughed, "I'm sure you don't see it that way."
"Not really," admitted Franz, taking two glasses of champagne from a nearby tray and handing one to Yong Soo. "Say, these other people are getting on my nerves. The place is a little crowded, y'know?" Franz wondered where he was going with this. All the mission stated was that he had to distract Yong Soo until Peter returned, but now he began to think he could go one step further. What if he lured the suspect into a false sense of security? What if he could subdue him somehow, interrogate him, and maybe even get a precious confession?
Yong Soo frowned, "well I can't get rid of them…"
"Never said you have to. What if it was us that left?"
"Are you implying what I think you're implying?" Yong Soo broke into a grin, tucking a lock of Franz's hair behind his ear.
"Maybe," Franz leaned forward, "is there anywhere we could have a bit of privacy?"
…
Peter finally picked the door open, pocketing his wire and slipping inside unnoticed, closing the door quickly after glancing around one final time. He found himself in a dark storeroom, packed to the brim with boxes and crates, few old enough to have gathered dust. Thin corridors snaked throughout the room, and moonlight filtered in through the tiny, translucent window, barely reaching the agent as he stood next to the door.
"Agent Patch," he hissed, "where should I start looking?"
"Everywhere," the voice in his earpiece whispered back, "it could be in any part of the room. We can't tell you any more."
"This might take a while then," Peter tiptoed over to the first crate, reading the label and shaking his head. Wrong date. He needed to find the most recent items, the ones that could only have been delivered a few days ago. He continued his search, glancing at labels as he snuck around the room, eventually finding a collection of suitcases marked with last week's date, in the back almost unseen. He picked up the nearest one, crouching down and balancing it on his knees, fiddling with the combination locks. After what felt like an eternity of desperate fumbling and picking, the locks finally snapped open, and Peter grinned. He lifted the lid off, revealing his prize.
"Gotcha," he hissed.
"Is it there?" Andrei asked.
Peter looked down at the rifle parts and boxes of bullets littered across the bottom of the suitcase, and nodded.
"Im Yong Soo's been organising gun-running," he confirmed, "there's probably more in the other cases."
"Do what you have to do, then get out. We'll pass the evidence on to the police and they can deal with him."
"Noted," Peter pulled out a portable camera and began photographing the parts, still feeling pleased with himself. So involved was he in his task, that Peter didn't notice the person sneaking up on him until a hand was clamped over his mouth and a pair of fingers attacked the pressure point above his collar bone. He tried to scream in pain, but the hand muffled any noises and they came out as pathetic squeals. His vision swam and he soon blacked out.
…
Yong Soo led Franz to his ground-floor office, the pair giggling and holding hands, slipping past others and ignoring their startled expressions.
The moment they stepped inside the large, messy room, Franz glanced around, taking in as many details as he could whilst Yong Soo locked the door, still cackling. The agent wondered how much he'd had to drink, as his voice was slightly slurred and he swayed as he walked, tripping over his feet. Easier to subdue, Franz noted.
His eyes ran over the faded green carpet and drawn blinds, squinting to read the labels on the files stacked on the shelves. It was a finely furnished room indeed, with an ornate globe, various paintings and a collection of ornaments included in the decoration. He glanced at the papers strewn across the desk, wondering if Yong Soo was too intoxicated to notice if he stuffed a few down his dress, but soon found himself busy, as the smuggler wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning against Franz's shoulder.
"Fancy something to drink?" he asked, walking over to the globe and lifting the lid up, revealing a collection of brandy and port. Franz nodded.
"Scotch, please."
Yong Soo nodded and poured him a glass, pouring one for himself too. He handed the drink to Franz, motioning for him to sit in an office chair whilst he perched on the arm. When Franz was seated, he wrapped an arm around the agent's shoulders, grinning.
"So," Franz began, a little nervously, "this is where you work?"
"Indeed," Yong Soo stretched, "kinda small though. Hoping to get it refurbished."
"Maybe I could help," Franz tucked a hand under his chin, crossing his legs to reveal a slither of thigh and beaming up at the other, "I've always considered myself an artist."
"Is that so? Well, I'll have to give you a call sometime," he leaned closer, "I'm sure, as an artist, you have a great deal of creativity."
"I like to think so," Franz suppressed another nervous giggle, mentally begging his husband, Lars, to forgive him as Yong Soo drew nearer.
His mind raced as he tried to remember where he'd stashed his weapons. There was a knife hidden in the padding of his chest, and he hoped he could get to it in time.
Yong Soo leaned over him, breath hot against his face and he scowled, deciding now was the time to act. There was a click and he tried to move his hand, but found it restrained by handcuffs. His head shot up in panic and he saw Yong Soo stand up, backing away and drawing a pistol from his blazer. He moved to stand, reaching for a knife with his free hand, but found himself staring down a loaded barrel.
"Just you try and move, Agent Edelweiss," Yong Soo growled, "I'll blow your fucking brains out!"
"I have no idea what-"
"Don't play me for a fool. Who else has long blond hair like yours? All I needed to do was rub a bit of make up off to confirm it. You're quite a distinctive young man, Edelweiss."
Franz clenched his teeth, not daring to reach for any weapon or gadget and praying Peter was having better luck. He settled down in the chair and snarled.
"Fine," he whispered, "I give in."
Yong Soo chuckled, "well, it wasn't like you really had a choice."
…
I'm so sorry about this. Probably should've warned people to lower their standards before reading aha. Still, it'll pick up in later chapters when the plot gets moving and more characters are introduced.