Nguyễn Kim-ly: Vietnam
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I'm so, so sorry this is late! I've been having trouble writing lately, but ah well, here's a nice long chapter to make up for everything. This chapter's a bit more action-y, and contains a torture scene, guns, some blood, and violence so proceed with caution.
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It was his aching shoulder and the feeling of awkward discomfort that woke Peter up. He groaned as his eyelids struggled to part, opening one eye blearily and finding himself staring at a blank ceiling. He wondered if he was dead. The pain in his shoulder said otherwise. A second groan was interrupted by the snapping voice of someone a metre or so away from him.
"Oh stop being such a baby," growled Franz, still trapped in his office chair, now bound by cuffs on both his hands, keeping his arms fixed to the arms of the chair.
"What… happen…" Peter's head swam as he tried to form coherent sentences; luckily Franz seemed to know what he was trying to ask.
"We were caught. We failed. The world is coming to an end."
"Oh, that all?" Peter replied sleepily, looking around. He was slumped against a wall in a tiny, dimmed office, earpiece and hidden weapons gone, wrists and ankles tied together, arms behind his back and the cold plaster and hard floor pressing against his body uncomfortably. Someone had taken his blazer, tie and trousers, probably in case there were yet more weapons hidden cleverly inside them. Peter shivered in his shirt and boxers. His muscles were stiff and sore, and his shoulder throbbed, though his partner appeared to be having little sympathy.
"Don't look at me like that!" he growled, "you're not exactly in a better position."
Franz just shrugged, turning his head.
"Where are we?"
"Isn't it obvious? We're in the frozen foods section of Lidl!" exclaimed Franz sarcastically, turning back to Peter.
"I'm serious."
"We're in that bastard's office."
"I see," Peter glanced around; "speaking of which, where is Mr Gun-Runner right now?"
"Who knows?"
"How come you didn't get a strip-search?"
"One of his men tried, the one who brought you in, under Im Yong Soo's orders, but I kicked him in the jaw when he tried to unzip me. He punched me in return, but didn't seem to keen to try again. They took the knives and pistols though."
"That's a shame."
As if on cue, Yong Soo entered the room carrying a triumphant air, as well as an old suitcase. He was followed by two armed guards, who stood either side of him and glared down at the captured spies.
"You'd think the DSA would know better than to send such amateurs," he commented. The DSA being the Deutschland Schutz Agentur, or Germany Protection Agency: an organisation with bases up and down the country. The agency's mission was to locate, infiltrate and destroy criminal and terrorist groups that threatened national and international security. Peter and Franz were trained agents in the South Berlin division.
"Did he just call us amateurs?" Peter asked Franz, raising an eyebrow.
"Can you blame him?"
"It's not usually like this," Peter explained, turning to Yong Soo, "usually we're really good at this espionage shit. Must be having an off day. Can we try again tomorrow?"
"No, and I'm afraid it's this 'off day' that's about to cost you your lives;" he wandered over to his desk, setting his suitcase down and opening it. He nodded at the two guards to leave, and they marched out, probably to stand watch in the corridor.
Peter wondered how long he'd been out, and if the other guests had already left, but those thoughts were quickly pushed to the back of his mind when Yong Soo pulled a meat cleaver from his suitcase. The spy shivered, squirming as the blade glinted in the lamplight, but Yong Soo shook his head, placing it back in the suitcase and pulling out a lighter.
"Much better," he muttered, turning to Peter and walking slowly over to him, flicking the tiny instrument on and off.
"Pfft," Franz raised an eyebrow, "this is your torture? I've done scarier with my husband."
"Didn't need to know that, Edelweiss," complained Peter, staring at the lighter with distrust and dread, "couldn't you torture him instead? It might shut him up."
"Oh no, I have a feeling you'll be easier to crack," he knelt down before Peter, who shuddered. He understood that he and Franz were on their own now. It was in the job description. If they were caught, they would not receive any assistance from HQ; no rescue mission, since they couldn't risk jeopardising more agents. He and Franz were pretty much disposable and would be left for dead, and they knew and accepted that when they'd first joined. They swore loyalty to the country, and vowed to never give anything away under interrogation, and even torture. Peter hoped he could live up to his vow.
Any escape plan depended on what he and Franz were able to do, which, under the circumstances, wasn't reassuring in the slightest.
"I bet you're wrong," Peter tried to wiggle away, but Yong Soo turned him around and grabbed his arm- wrists rubbing painfully against their ropes- and flicked on the lighter.
"Oh really? Well we'll have to see. I'm sure you'll soon be handing over the names of your colleagues, a few addresses even, valuable information I can go and sell on."
"Never," Peter managed to hiss out before hot flame licked at the sensitive skin of his lower arm. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying out.
"Come on now. Who's your immediate superior?"
Peter bit harder as another piece of his skin was attacked, and when it happened a third time, he couldn't stop himself kicking out blindly.
"Come on now, who's your immediate superior?"
"Your mother" he hissed out earning a punch in the jaw.
"Where are you based?"
"I…"
"Yes?"
"Argh!"
Peter's mind was empty of rational thought. The only thing that filled his head was red hot pain and terror as he writhed in his spot, rope burns adding to his suffering. He let out a cry, much to his humiliation, but didn't answer the questions. He couldn't even if he wanted to, his mind was so blank.
"What is your real name?"
Peter screamed in reply.
Yong Soo growled, standing up and placing the lighter back in the suitcase before taking a meat tenderiser out of his makeshift torture kit. He called for one of his guards, who entered and took the instrument from him.
"I don't like getting my hands bloody," Yong Soo explained.
Peter squirmed as the burly man marched towards him, weighing the tenderiser up in his hands. He knew he'd not be able to get out of this. He'd be beaten unconscious, maybe even to death, and not receive one tiny shred of mercy. The only way to achieve that would be to betray the DSA- as well as the nation- and, quite frankly, he'd rather die.
But could he actually do that? Could he die a slow and painful death for a country he'd only spent 17 years in?
He didn't get the chance to find out.
Franz shot up, swinging the chair over his head so it came crashing down on the guard's skull. He crumpled to the ground, unmoving, and Franz turned his attention towards Yong Soo. The gun-runner picked up the cleaver, throwing it blindly in the spy's direction. Franz only just dodged it and the knife landed above Peter's head, electing a small cry from him. The man quickly pulled himself to his knees and began using the blade to saw through his ropes.
Franz kicked Yong Soo in the gut and he hit the desk. The spy followed by bringing the chair down on his stomach and he stopped moving, flopping onto the floor with a groan. The impact shattered the chain of one of the cuffs, and Franz used the tenderiser to smash the other.
With both his hands free, he turned his attention to the second guard, who'd just burst in. Neither paid Peter any attention as they exchanged blows, Franz having the upper hand. The young man succeeded in freeing his hands, and pulled the meat cleaver out of the wall to work on his ankles. But his partner was tiring fast, and a few missed punches soon left him vulnerable to counterattack.
The guard threw Franz against the wall, shoving an arm against his throat to keep him immobile.
"Grandpa Seagull," he hissed, "do something!"
"A little busy now," Peter called back, sawing through the ropes. The guard pressed against Franz's throat harder, and the young man's eyes bulged.
"Pe-ter," he pleaded, as the man pulled a knife out of the suitcase to finish him off. Franz just had time to throw his arms in front of his chest before there was a flash of silver and he bellowed in agony. Peter glanced up as the last of his ropes fell away to find his partner cradling a bloody arm, whimpering as he eyed the knife, pulled back and aimed for his heart. The agent jumped up, clutching the cleaver in two hands as he lunged forward and buried it in the guard's skull. The man fell to the floor as blood poured from his head, Franz joining him on the ground.
"Cheers," he muttered, still holding his arm. Peter said nothing as he crouched down to inspect it further, and found his partner had a large gash running down his lower arm, blood tricking onto his hands and dress as a large chunk of his skin flapped uselessly, hanging from the wound. Peter winced at the sight.
"And yours?" Franz asked, and Peter showed him the blistered burns covering his own arms. Now it was his partner's turn to flinch.
Yong Soo groaned, pulling himself up and reaching into his blazer. Peter ducked as a gunshot rang through the room, but the bullet, fired from a shaky hand, hit the ceiling instead.
"Run!" cried Franz, pulling himself and Peter to their feet. They burst into the hall, doubling over as more gunshots followed.
"Someone stop them!" Yong Soo cried, hobbling into the hall after them and shouting into his mobile. The spies dashed into the deserted hall, Peter almost crashing to the ground as he slipped over the polished floor tiles in his socks. Franz ditched his heels, leaving them in the doorway as the burst into the garden, eyes scanning the gloom for their car.
They found it sat in the corner of the car park, and bounded over to it, wincing as the gravel attacked their feet.
"You'll have to drive," Franz hissed, "I don't think I can use my arm."
"Right," Peter jumped into the driver's seat, picking up the keys left on the cold leather by the valet and starting the engine. Franz got in the passenger's seat and Peter began driving off.
"Oh shit," Franz hissed as he glanced out of the window to find Yong Soo limping down the steps, more of his men streaming past and filling two other cars, Yong Soo himself getting in the nearest. They'd just made it out of the gates when their pursuers started their engines.
The pair thundered along Berlin's empty streets, Peter's reckless driving causing several near crashes in his attempt to escape. More shot fired from the cars behind them and Franz fumbled for the mobile stashed in the glove compartment.
"Boss," he barked after hitting speed dial, "we have a bit of a situation."
"I guessed as much," replied Andrei, "after, you know, your earpieces stopped working and we didn't hear a word for five hours."
"Did you miss us?" Peter butted in, mounting the pavement for a moment in his distraction.
"Shut up Seagull," Franz ordered, "look, Agent Patch, we're in trouble, big time. Go to scenario 6."
"Right, Agent Yogurt," Andrei called, "scenario 6, now!"
"On it!" the hacker called back, barely heard by Franz on his end of the line.
"The Bodies will be ready seven miles south. They'll know where to find you."
"Right, got it," Franz hung up and turned to Peter. "You know what to do, right?"
"Vaguely," Peter admitted, wincing at his partner's glare; "don't worry. We'll just wing it!"
"I think I'll worry," Franz replied before the shattering of glass sent him ducking, curling up so his head was between his legs. When he dared peek up again, he found their back window smashed, cracks in the glass snaking with increasing intensity towards a tiny bullet hole. He gulped.
"Step on it, Grandpa Seagull!"
"Alright, alright!" Peter swerved into a side street, closely followed by the two enemy vehicles. They came out in a deserted commercial street, and took off in the direction of their rendezvous point.
"Will they be there?" Peter growled, glaring in Franz's direction for a second.
"The boss gave his word, didn't he?"
"It's still one heck of a gamble, on our part."
"All in a day's work" Franz winked, "we've been in stickier situations." He winced as the car screeched around another corner, nearly tipping over in the process. A few civilians- having heard the cars and guns approaching- ran onto the pavement screaming.
"I thought you Brits were supposed to be careful drivers!" Franz commented, clutching his seatbelt.
"Well that's what you get for stereotyping!" Peter shot back, "besides, I'm a wonderful driver, thank you very much!"
"Tell that to the cyclist you just knocked over!"
"Oh he bounced right back up!"
"I don't think he did," Franz nervously glanced back, but all he saw was a pair of flashy cars laden with gunmen speeding towards them. Peter briefly mounted the pavement again, knocking over a bin.
"This is how I'll die," Franz whined, sinking lower into his seat.
"Oh, shut up you ninny! Besides, we're nearly there so get the guns out!" Franz took a pair of handguns out of the glove compartment, stuffing one down his dress and keeping hold of the other. Peter swerved into a tiny opening, slamming his foot on the brakes as the car skidded to a halt in a tiny alleyway. Franz handed Peter the second gun, which he stuffed down his boxers, praying it didn't go off, then the pair stepped out of the vehicle with their hands behind their head.
The two pursuing cars had also stopped, Yong Soo standing in front of his posse, arms folded and mouth pulled into a smirk.
"It's a shame it had to come to this, Maria," he began mockingly, "but I guess that's how love works."
"Indeed," Franz replied.
The guards marched forward.
"Now?" Franz hissed at Peter, who shook his head ever so slightly.
"Wait for the signal."
They came closer; Yong Soo lingering behind, probably to keep him away from the bloodshed, and also to have a better view of it all.
"Can we afford to wait?" Franz and Peter were standing their ground, and one glance told Franz that his partner was shivering.
"The Boss won't let us down," Peter assured him, though he didn't look at all certain.
Franz closed his eyes, waiting for the first blow, but it never came. Instead, sirens ripped through the night air and the guards fell back, shouting and looking at Yong Soo uncertainly.
"Let's get out of here," he shouted, "it's the filth!"
The men hurried back to their cars, but the entrance to the alley was suddenly blocked by a screaming, silver police car and the two agents took that as the signal to draw their weapons.
Two blue-uniformed officers also drew their weapons as they jumped out of their car, firearms trained on Yong Soo. Behind them, more cars pulled up, carrying yet more polizei. Above them, a police helicopter roared as it hovered over the alley and one by one, the guards dropped their weapons, raising their hands in surrender. Yong Soo, realising he was cornered, soon followed.
…
"Thanks again, Officer Hassan, Officer Nguyễn," Peter said shakily, wrapped in a blanket and sat in the back of a police car, legs hanging out the open door. Franz stood next to the two polizei, letting Officer Hassan bandage him up enough to see him to A&E.
The police force worked closely with the DSA, but remained two separate organisations, the DSA being funded and managed directly by the government and the force controlled by the states. Whilst the police force alone were left to handle most criminal cases, the DSA were only called in when national and international security was likely to be compromised. Nevertheless, the DSA was unpopular with a large chunk of the police force, who distrusted their methods and freedom.
Officer Nguyễn just glared at him, nodding slowly.
"I really thought we were in trouble there," he admitted.
"And you nearly were," Officer Nguyễn replied.
"Kim-ly," Officer Hassan warned.
"I know that…"
"But thanks to you and your intelligence- and I mean that in the loosest sense- we've saved months that would've been spent looking for Im Yong Soo," Officer Nguyễn admitted, "so thank you."
Peter nodded, standing up; "so should we go to the hospital then?" He glanced at the police van, which had been loaded with the criminals and was about to drive off; "we seem pretty much done here."
"One thing first…" Kim-ly grabbed Peter's shoulder, flipping him round and slamming him against the car, keeping his face pressed against the roof as she stuffed his wrists into handcuffs.
"What the hell!?" cried Franz.
"I'm afraid I'm putting you under arrest," Officer Nguyễn told them.
"What for?" Peter hissed, tasting metal.
"Don't think we didn't see your reckless driving back there," the policewoman spat, "and our colleagues have informed us of that bloody mess you left at Im Yong Soo's house."
"That was in self-defence," Peter protested, wincing at the pain in his arms as the officer's clothes rubbed against his blisters.
"Are you seriously arresting him?" asked Franz nervously.
"Nah," Officer Nguyễn pulled away, removing the handcuffs; "just wanted to make sure he learns his lesson."
"What lesson would that be then?" asked Peter, rubbing his arms tenderly.
"Retake your fucking driving test!"
"Noted, now can we please go to hospital?"
"Of course," Officer Hassan sighed, "the sooner you get patched up, the sooner you can report back to your boss."
Peter and Franz exchanged anxious glances. Ah yes, Agent Patch. What would he have to say about all this?
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Sorry for all this I swear my writing will get better someday, with practice. Please tell me what you think!