Private/Closed Trusted: The Operatives of Austria

[Mockingchu]

@Salted_Apples

"And so he says t' me- tha's not your wife- tha's a bowl of Tafelspitz," the large man bellowed before downing the rest of his lager. Some of the alcohol splashed over his lips and got caught in his hedge of a beard.

"Bist du deppert?" Edwin asked the man, deadpan. He took a shot of his own spirits.

The group of friends around the large man, one of the regulars, quieted down. The rest of the crowded bar continued as usual. Glasses clinked and alcoholics frolicked. But in the area around the men... the air grew icy.

"Ungustl," the man spat at Edwin.

"Calm down, e's jus' a prick," one of the large man's friends intervened. He was much shrimpier, but looked more put together. Like his life wasn't necessarily a trainwreck. He then turned to Edwin, "What brings yer sorry soul here? Tryin' a dampen the mood?"

"His story's kuhscheiße," Edwin shrugged, "You know it. I know it."

"Jus' havin' a good time," the shrimp shot back, "No' everything's about logicness."

"Not a word."

"Christ, jus-" the shrimp began before Edwin silenced him. He stared intently at a message on his phone.

"Doesn' matter," Edwin said, "Got to go."

"Good!" the shrimp said, flailing his arms back. Before Edwin made it out the door, the shrimp tacked on a sarcastic, "Baba!"

Edwin shook off the sad attempt at an insult and approached his car. Nothing special. A compact coop that got the job done. He glanced at his phone one last time.

[THE RAINDROPS ARE FALLING]

Edwin tapped out his response.

[THE STORM APPROACHES]

 

[Salted_Apples]

Most of the newer operatives called him Lauscher - a common codename. Lauscher, a title metaphorically ran into the dirt due to its use as a disposable label, was one of the many names of Sebastian Morath.

The profuse chatter of tipsy men roared around him in the tavern, the strong, bitter smell of beer and ale infecting the hardwood where his hands rested. Sebastian could decipher their sloppily conjoined sentences with ease, group by group, word by word, syllable by syllable - like compost recoiling back into the earth.

Eavesdropper.

What a useless word. It seemed to Sebastian that the act of listening was deliberate eavesdropping - no more, no less. He often staved off the occasional pangs of guilt with the term listener instead.

One single, sprightly told joke slithered like a match into a crowd of powder kegs - and the crowd exploded into an inferno of laughter, as the individual men flailed in their abundant joy, like ashes curling and falling.

Sebastian was no stranger to stake outs in bars, pubs, and all manners of restaurants, however that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. He attempted to play a facade of happiness to not draw attention to his true, much more sullen emotions, sometimes forcing a laugh in his bid for time.

Periodically the crowd would recede, and Sebastian would glance across the building to observe Edwin - his newly assigned partner, and somebody that hadn’t completely proved his own competence to the Austrian yet. Of course, this may have not been a very fair expectation, as Sebastian had not done anything to display to his temporary companion competence within his own craft. Regardless, the mass of swaying men and women momentarily broke, and he glanced up. Finally catching the physique of Edwin, he saw as the man stood and began striding through the dancers to the door.

Vrrt.

A vibration rubbed against his leg, a notification from his phone. He raised the device to his eyes - the digital blue light serving as a temporary sanctuary from the uneven lighting of the tavern.

His eyes widened in a fleeting moment of excitement, before retracting to their usual position. Sebastian stood, and began making his way to the constantly swinging door. He finally stepped out onto the street, and was relieved to be breathing in the cool evening air.

Sebastians eyes flicked to the now familiar form of Edwin, and he slowly walked towards the man - his boots sinking sluggishly into the damp ground.

 

[Mockingchu]

"Lauscher," Edwin said, catching the unmissable olive eyes and oaken wispy mustache, "Been a while."

He recalled a time when he worked a job with the lauded agent. Extraction. Prince of Saudi Arabia. Mohammad bin Salman. A dirty man with heinous deeds in his past. But the mission was the mission. Remove the Prince from the hostile country of Yemen after peace talks. No one touched a hair on his head thanks to the team. Though Edwin couldn't recollect exactly what Lauscher had done on this mission, he remembered the resounding "success". They'd protected a murderer.

Snapping Edwin back to reality was one of the drunken men he'd pissed off inside the bar. The larger one. The Shrimp's friend.

"You an't talk t' my friend like that y' filth!" the man slurred his words, stumbling towards Edwin.

"Heads up," Edwin told Lauscher as the slob made his attack.

 

[Salted_Apples]

Sebastian detected the reply, and rolled his shoulders back dismissively.

"Right then." He replied, a sharp Austrian accent dripping from his words. The agent didn't mean to be a confrontational man - it simply was an aspect of his creed that he considered to be occasionally advantageous in his line of work. He continued: "Edwin. Muller, if I remember correctly: we've had assignments before. Nostalgia aside, I'd suggest that we focus on the task at hand. If you'd -"

The faint noise of boots stomping against damp mud sounded behind Sebastian - getting closer and more noticeable with each step. A flash of realization struck against his face as the hairs on the back of his neck raised tentatively, and just then Edwin warned him of the oncoming drunk. Sebastian pivoted on his heel, laying his eyes on the brawny Austrian assailant. He sidestepped out of the way of a sloppy, alcohol impaired swing. A sly grin gracing the lips of the agent, he quickly retaliated with a precise uppercut to the jaw of his own.

 

[Mockingchu]

"Agreed," Edwin responded, casting a quick pitying glance down at the would-be attacker, "Should be receiving a location 't any moment."

The assailant tried to get back to his feet, only to fall to the side while spewing vomit. His hand was crested by the puddle of puke. A halo of chunks.

"Grindig," Edwin grunted, tapping the man with his foot to help him roll out of the vomit.

Moments later, Edwin's phone was pinged with a location.

"You drive? I drive?"