Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on history. At no point does it reflect my views or my opinions nor do I endorse anything that might be said or done in this work, I am just writing work that is accurate for the times and what would have happened. I also do not own the rights to MCU.
I use the names of real people during this work, but the work/ words do not reflect those people. This is a work of fiction and so their names are used but their actions and characters themselves will be altered or be completely different and so have no bearing on the person.
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(Language: German.)
The car rattled, sputtering out a plume of smoke that seeped into the car, as I awkwardly shifted in the crapped boot compartment, banding my knee against it.
Someone banged on the connector to the back seats. "Quiet, we're pulling up to the second crossing. Make any more noise and we'll all end up in an American prison camp, fun place to be if you never want to see daylight again, haha."
I shifted again getting as comfortable as possible, before the brakes screeched and we came to a stop. I listened outside the car, hearing car doors opening and closing before gravel crunched.
"Papers and reason for your visit."
"Diplomats returning home. We are Yugoslavian." I hear so rustling of papers. "Everything you need is here officer."
"Is that so." The guard licked his fingers before shifting the paper. "Open up the boot. Private Johnson, pat them down, then search the truck." My heartbeat boomed in my ears, the gravel crunched and sweat slipped down my back caressing the skin to flare goosebumps. The boot hatched clicked, and creaked open. The officer coughed before rummaging through the bags, shifting through clothes, personal items, and a bag of cash.
"Mark der Deutschen is useless to us, so we changed them over to good Deutsche Mark."
I could hear the officer's grin. "Dam right it is, those communists don't know the first thing about proper money."
"Exactly officer. Only good for making a profit off of." I heard the rustling of paper between fingers before the men shook hands.
"Haha, good man. How are we looking, Private Johnson!" The officer walked past me; my heart rate started to fall back down.
"All clear Corporal." His jacket fluttered as he undoubtably saluted.
"Good, you men are all clear, have a pleasant evening."
"Thanks, officer." The driver hopped back in as the barrier was lifted before the engine sputtered up and cricked as we drove.
(Language: Russian)
"Haha, you must have shat yourself. You still with us Artyom."
I sighed. "Da, loving the introduction to your country."
"Oh, grow a pair, might put some hair on your chest. Maybe you'll be able to get some girls then. Haha."
The driver finally pipped up. "Be quiet Karl, smoke some cigarettes and leave the kid alone."
I rolled my head to look at the wall towards us. "I'm not a kid, I'm 16."
"You've not had the touch of a woman; thus, you are a child. Haha."
I zeroed in on the heartbeat of the asshole. "And how would you know that Karl, been watching me have you."
"Haha, because I've been chatting with your mother, the curves on- "
"Shut up Karl, you're starting to annoy me." I clenched my fist as I heard Hans shake his head before he turned us down a street and the car fell silent. After glories silence, we eventually into a closed area. The doors quickly clicked open before Hans opened the flooring of the boot bathing me in light for the first time in hours.
"Welcome to West Berlin Kid, and where our deal ends." He reached past me grabbing one of the two bags by my feet. I climbed out of the boot as Hans opened the bag revealing a massive stack of cash.
He smiled as he saw my look of surprise. "Smuggling's good business. Chocolates and coffee one way and people the other. It's good money if you know the right people." He grabbed my bag and passed it to me, "Our deal was to get you here, we were never told anything else." He awkwardly smiled at me. "I assume you have someone to go?"
"Da … *cough* thanks."
"Come on, I'll see you out," he said, guiding me past the Trabant, with its dull pale blue paint flaking, and into the modest dining room with a large wooden table taking centre, decorated with three vases of healthy daisy's next to a filled ashtray and a worn book.
Karl kicked his feet up on the only muddy chair, turning the Grundig radio whilst lighting up a new cigarette, he waved at me with a condescending smile, he leaned back the chair onto the shelf filled with both worn and new books, as the dim swinging light bulb flickered over him. I caught a small glimpse of a framed black-and-white photograph of the pair and what looks like their military unit, framed in a smooth wooden frame "Come on." Hans said pushing me along.
The living room opened into an open hallway, then passed a closed door and stairway then into the corridor to outside. The wooden floorboards creaked as Hans opened the door and scrapped it across the worn floorboards. "Try and be safe kid." He smiled before he closed the door after me.
The faded two-story building opened up into the clouded-over sky, I pulled my jacket closer to me as I quickly marched my way down the street, passing by the repeated houses, a husband leaned out of a window to have a smoke whilst the giggling of children followed after him, his smoke curled up into the sharp sloped red tiles coated in thin soot.
I pass down the wide smooth cobblestone street, its way open before me, with the building I'm looking for supposedly not far from here. The streetlamps cast a dim, piss-yellow glow to guide me, before a young boy ran past me, cutting me off, to play tag with his brother, they ran by before he used the pole to defend himself, laughing innocently as he did so, through finally his brother caught him before their dad finally arrived to move them along, apologising to me for their behaviour. I laughed it off as I watched the brothers continue to play.
I passed the distant hum of a tram, its bell echoed through the street, as worked factory men cacked in the labour of their work and hopped off, making their way to warm homes and loving wives. I quickly passed after it and continued walking for thirty minutes before arriving at a quiet street filled with fur-lined clothed individuals, and finely polished gems and watches on display. Jewellery stores, bookstores, and high-end clothing lined the streets as all walks of upper society mingled; I passed on heading towards the residential areas.
I anxiously open a bland door to a wave of strong cigarette smoke flowing like a river from a lady, dolled up in a white dress that hugged her before flaring out around her high belt, casually smoking behind a worn wooden reception desk topped with a radio, quietly playing Schuld war nur der Bossa Nova.
"Yes, can I help you?" She said after a moment.
I whipped my hand on my trousers. "Yes, I am here to see Mr Lenin about my new future employment prospects."
She gave me a once-over. "That can be arranged. Can I get a name?"
"Yes, for a Cooper Johnson," I said relaxing my shoulders.
Her eyebrow rose with a slight smile, for a moment, before she got up and jiggled around with the wall opening a hidden door. (Language: Russian) "He is waiting for you."
I tried to calmly walk past her and into a lightly lit room, I turned to see her close the door behind me, trapping me in the room before I heard her puff on her cigarette through the wall.
"I can assume you must be a 'Mr Johnson' then." I turned my head to find a button-down man in a brown checkered tailored suit, stern-faced faced he took off his glasses as he looked up from the masses of papers in front of him.
"Yes, Mr Lenin." I slightly shuffled my feet.
"Good, the Centre does not want to be kept waiting any longer for this operation." He reached down into a drawer and took out a stack of papers.
"Everything you need is here, along with future instructions on where to go next."
The small stack felt heavy, as I received my first KGB mission details and information, and I knew that they were throwing me into the deep end.