Tropic Thunder: Anmativeda's Civil War

Posts from Anmativeda's Civil War

Chianmei, Anmativeda
6:32 PM, August 24, 2020

Than Win glanced over his shoulder as he walked the streets of the country’s largest city. It was getting late and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it back home before the military junta’s curfew set in at 8. Oh well, he thought, wouldn’t be the first time he would have had to sneak through the city’s streets. The usually crowded streets of Chianmei waned with the sun’s light.

Than Win’s eyes were drawn to his destination. It was quite hard to miss the Anmativeda Students’ Front for Democracy’s regional headquarters was hard to miss. The organization‘s flags hung proudly from the shabby, old concrete building’s facade: a red peacock lunging at a red star on the nation’s ubiquitous yellow field. He hadn’t visited in a long time and wasn’t even a member of the organization any longer but it was hard to have ignored the invitation to meet some old friends.

He rapped his knuckles on the building’s locked door and tried to take a peek through its shuttered windows. The inside was dark and the windows were shuttered, had the Thhar* already shut the ASFD down? Just as he was about to abandon his mission, the door creaked its way open and the face of a middle aged Araki man with thinning hair peeked out. Just as he was about to greet his old friend, Than Win was grabbed by the shirt collar and pulled into the building.

The man locked the door behind the two of them and peeked between the blinds. “Were you followed, Ko Than Win*?”

“As far as I can tell, no. I see you’ve gotten no better at greeting guests, Ko Soe Naing.” Than Win straightened his shirt and grinned at his friend from a bygone age of his life.

Soe Naing returned the grin with a smile that was a few teeth short of a full set. “Only one of us learned the niceties of civilization after we left the jungles.” With a gesture, Soe Naing led Than Win through the labyrinth of desks and old desktop computers to a door at the back of the building. “This is what I called you here for, Ko. Nothing that happens in this room leaves this room, understand?” Than Win nodded and thought of what could be so exciting as to have him agree to silence.

A group of men sat around the meeting table, on which sat a number of firearms. It took Than Win a moment to recognize Vice President Makara Soun without his characteristic combover and black suit. Shocked, Than Win quickly bowed before turning to Soe Naing. “Why is the vice president sitting at a table in your office?” He hissed to his old friend.

“Eh. There’s a lot to explain. Sit, Ko Than Win.” The pair sat in their seats at the table. Soe Naing grabbed a rifle from the table and rested it across his lap. “Gentlemen, this is Than Win. He is one of the best smooth talkers I’ve ever met in my time with the Front.”

Vice President Makara Soun raised an eyebrow, “Really? He looks like a clerk.”

Than Win cut off Soe Naing’s answer, “That’s because I am. Ko Soe Naing, please explain to me why I’m here and why the vice president of the country is at this table.”

“I apologize for not telling you beforehand but you can see the sensitive nature of this meeting. We need to get the vice president out of the city.” Soe Naing replied as if it were the most normal statement in the world.

Than Win protested, “I’m not a militant anymore, Ko Soe Naing, I’m a middle manager!”

“Ko Than Win, your inclusion is a precaution. The plan has already been put in place. It’ll be a little adventure, a final send off, two days max. Do this for me and I’ll never ask anything from you ever again, Ko.”

“Fine. If it’ll get you out of my hair.” Than Win relented.

“Are you two done bickering? What’s the plan?!” Makara Soun said, obviously annoyed. “We’re wasting time, Maung Soe Naing*.”

“Of course. We will go to the Park of the Revolution. There, I have arranged for my associates to provide us with police vehicles and uniforms. We will put on those uniforms and use those vehicles to ensure we do not arouse suspicion. From there, we will drive to the village of Zon Do. I have connections there who can keep you out of the public eye, at least for now.”

“And the guns?” Than Win inquired.

“What do you think they’re there for? We kill anyone who tries to take the Vice President.” Soe Naing remarked as if this contingency were as simple as taking off one’s shoes before entering an office.

Than Win grumbled “Glad we cleared that up.”

“Enough complaining.” Soe Naing said. “We have a schedule to stick to and we must leave soon if we want to keep it.” He stood and slung the rifle over his shoulder. Soe Naing slid one of the pistols across the table to Than Win and pushed one of the rifles towards the vice president. “Let’s go.”



*The Thhar is the military of Anmativeda, which initiated a coup against the democratically elected government on August 21, 2020
*Ko is an honorific used in Anmativeda for a man of similar age, roughly means “brother”
*Maung is an honorific used to refer to a man younger than oneself

Originally posted here

Chianmei, Anmativeda
9:04 PM, August 24, 2020

The plan has gone off without a hitch so far. A fact that Than Win should’ve expected given his associate’s record of hitch-less plans so far. Soe Naing’s “business partners” had turned out to be a group of police officers who were looking to disappear for a while and were willing to fork over their equipment and state issued vehicles to do so. Now, Than Win sat shotgun in a police truck, his surrogate uniform riding wrong in all the right places and his pistol hanging heavy from his belt holster.

By this time in the evening the streets of this area were completely clear aside from the occasional army or police patrol enforcing the curfew. The Vice President sat behind him, one of his few remaining presidential guards next to him. At some point in the last three days, Makara Soun’s signature combover hair had been shaved. This, alongside a surgical mask despite his health and a police uniform was a decent enough disguise for the man.

Than Win was growing very tired of riding in silence. Music couldn’t be played without blowing their cover and it seemed that the other occupants of the truck were in little mood to talk. Than Win cleared his throat, “So, Vice President, how did you escape the Thhar for all this time?”

The vice president’s bodyguard made a whispered remark, likely to the effect that the vice president didn’t need to answer that question. But he cleared his throat anyway and said, “Well, I guess I just outsmarted them somehow. I wasn’t where they thought I would be.” The vice president shifted about in his seat. “I made a little unplanned visit to see my sister here in Chianmei the night before. Those traitorous dogs must’ve just assumed I would be at home when they came to arrest the government. I wasn’t.”

“So how’d you end up with the Front?” Than Win probed. Might as well get as much information as he could.

Makara Soun sighed from the back seat. “My sister’s kids are members. They convinced me it was the safest option. I’ve been in and out of safe houses for days now.” A thought seemed to occur to the vice president, “Have you ever been to this… Zon Do place you are taking me?”

The memories flooded back to Than Win in an instant. It was like he was back there again. “I- yeah. It used to be Ko Soe Naing and I’s haunt back during the insurgency. It’s a good place; they’ll protect you.”

The Vice President seemed to have become lost in thought for several moments. “Funny how that works. Twenty-five years ago you were an insurgent and I was an exile. Now, here you are with a pistol on your hip taking me to a village to hide away in. I fear we may soon have lost twenty-five years of progress.”

“Unfortunately, you may be correct in that, Maung Makara Soun. Twenty-five years of democracy, gone in an instant because some generals wanted more political power.” The convoy turned a corner and what Than Win saw almost made his blood cold. A handful of soldiers mulled about the area and as the small convoy of certainly-not-stolen police vehicles approached, one of the men motioned for them to stop. His hand was on the grip of his rifle so stop they did. “Shit. I’ll go talk to them.” Than Win turned to the vehicle's driver, a young man that couldn’t have been much older than eighteen and said, “Come back me up, kid.” He looked back at the now much paler Vice President and his bodyguard in the back seat, “Stay here. Keep your heads down if this gets hairy.”

Than Win threw open his door and stepped out of the car. Other fake police officers had exited their vehicles as well, including Soe Naing. He noted that the soldiers seemed fidgety and had their hands on their weapons. A soldier wearing the emblem of a corporal called out, “Whoever’s in charge come here. The rest of you best stay where you are.”

As Than Win had been given a lieutenant’s uniform and the instructions to handle any interruptions such as this, he marched towards the soldiers. “Lieutenant Bo Linn Zeyar, National People’s Police. What can I do for you, comrades?” Than Win slipped into his disguise with near startling accuracy to the other disguised militants. The term Comrade still left a bad taste in his mouth whenever he spoke it. A relic, it was, of the days of the People’s Republic that still held on in the military that in many ways still revered those days.

The corporal looked up at Than Win with a predator’s eyes. Than Win noted that his rifle was one of the few bullpup models that were distributed to the elite airborne troops. This guy was bad news. “Yes, Comrade, you can tell me what your convoy is doing out here. We were not informed by Command that any law enforcement units would be transiting this area.”

“Of course, of course. We’re just on our way back to the precinct for the night. One of my subordinates must have failed to call that into Command, Comrade.”

The corporal raised an eyebrow, “Your leadership leaves much to be desired then, Lieutenant. Where have you come from?”

“We came from the Southern Industrial District. We were sent to break up a workers’ protest this morning. It’s been a long day, corporal, and if you would kindly let us pass we would all like to go home and get some rest.” Than Win tried his best for a disarming smile but the soldier’s eyes seemed to bore holes in his skull.

“Hmm” the soldier wondered, “I heard those protests had been put down hours ago.”

“We were kept behind to avoid another riot from forming. Now, comrade, I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I would very much like to have dinner soon.” Than Win lied through his teeth. He turned and gestured to the men behind him. He counted around a dozen disguised militants now standing by the cars and trucks of the convoy. “They haven’t eaten either, corporal. If you keep us here much longer then I will be writing a very angry message to your supervisor.”

The soldier’s face seemed to soften for a second as he deliberated within his mind. “Alright, Lieutenant. Let me call you into Command and you’ll be free to go.” The man turned to return to his own vehicle.

Than Win’s hands seemed to move with a mind of their own. Before he had even realized what he was doing he had already pulled the pistol from its holster and fired two shots into the retreating soldier’s back. Time seemed to slow as he watched the man slump to the ground. It all happened so fast. He spotted movement at the edge of his constricted eyesight: a soldier trying to bring his rifle to his shoulder. Than Win whipped his pistol towards the man and pulled the trigger. The buck of the pistol in his hand and the snap of the bullet sent both Than Win and the soldier scrambling for cover.

Than Win found himself crouched behind an old junker car on the side of the road. The chatter of automatic gunfire had begun in earnest now as both sides exchanged fusillades of lead at each other. Glass from the windshield cascaded over his shoulders like snow.

Than Win hadn’t held a gun in decades and yet it now, once again, felt almost natural to him. It was muscle memory, he supposed. Than Win poked his head out from behind the car to survey his surroundings. Bodies lay in the street, the corporal’s corpse had been joined by another soldier and there was at least one ASFD militant laying face down in a jumble by the cars. A soldier’s head peered out from a corner, illuminated by the dim ambient glow of the streetlights and headlights. His pistol jerked back in his hands and a spray of clay dust shot out of the wall inches from the man’s head. The soldier ducked back behind the wall.

Everything was all so disorienting: the sounds, the muzzle flashes, the smell of gunpowder in the air. Down suddenly seemed to be up to Than Win. Time was hurried yet sluggish all the same. He sat there for a while as bullets cracked over his head, for how long he wasn’t sure.

Someone kicked Than Win’s foot. He realized as he looked up that the shooting had stopped. Soe Naing’s worried face peered down at him, “Are you okay, Ko Than Win? Are you shot?”

Than Win took a moment but was still so disoriented that all he could manage out was a weak “No.”

“Is that a ‘no’ to being okay or to being shot?” Soe Naing’s assault rifle was still smoking and smelled of cordite. The concern for his friend was obvious on his thickly lined face.

Than Win shook his head and offered a hand up to Soe Naing, “I’m not shot so a bit of both, I guess.” He accepted the hand that was offered to him and pulled himself up.

“Where’s the Vice President?”

“I left him in the car. I hope he’s okay.” Militiamen in their “acquired” uniforms milled about the street. Than Win did his best to avoid looking at the bodies. The cars looked to have been riddled with bullets in the fight. “Shit.”

Soe Naing popped the door open to the sight of the vice president and his bodyguard squished into the legroom between the seats. Makara Soun threw up his hands “Don’t shoot me! I’m the vice president, I’ll do whatever you want!” He opened his eyes, “Oh. It’s you two.”

Soe Naing sighed, “Well he’s not dead.” He turned back to the rest of the militants. “Alright! Take any guns and ammunition you can pull off the bodies. Mount up, we’ve got to roll out of here in two minutes!”

City of Hokkyō, State of Seinoku
Hokkyō Castle
April 9, 2024
Afternoon

Akashihito III is looking at his phone, reading an article from the website of Radio Free Anmativeda. He is pacing around the room as Shigeru Yomoya sits in an armchair, watching the Grand King exhale loudly as he grumbles.

A: I knew that supporting the rebels was a bad idea. <He laughs> Their balls probably haven't dropped! How the fuck are they going to lead a revolution?!

S: I assure you, Your Majesty, that it wasn't the rebels.

A: What the fuck? <He scrolls down to see an article about the Imperium's new stance on Rayvostoka> Fucking communists! Syndicalists! Socialists!

Akashihito shoves the phone on his desk.

A: There is not a day when I don't see the lot of you. As if having one as a neighboring shithole isn't enough!

S: You did appoint me as your prime minister.

A: The people voted for your stupid Syndicalist Party! I had no choice.

S: <He grumbles> We had to make a list for you to choose from.

A: What did you say?

S: I-If memory serves me right, we do not officially support the rebels.

Akashihito looks at Shigeru.

A: <He snorts> How can you be sure that it wasn't the rebels? Do we have a direct phoneline with them?

S: We don't. But, as you already know, we are working with the Skandans, their State Intelligence Committee, on the issues related to Anmativeda. They and our guys agree that the rebels did not shoot down the plane.

A: So it was the fucking Junta?

S: <He glances at the open folder on his lap> Growing evidence is pointing to the Junta as the culprit.

A: Bastards!

S: The Cabinet and I hope that Your Majesty will use the most appropriate response when the opportunity arises.

A: We should invade now! Beat the faggots into submission!

S: The Cabinet and I will not support you on that. At least not our coalition.

A: I could appoint a war cabinet, you know.

S: And force us into another senseless war? You'll end up like your father, Grand King Miyabihito.

A: I don't know. Abdication... Being surrounded by Iraelian supermodels all day sounds like heaven to me.

S: The Grand Queen won't be happy.

A: We didn't marry for love. Besides, she is regularly serviced by Suavidici men. It's their job to make her happy. <He looks up at the ceiling> I sometimes wonder if the Imperium sent those men to convince us not to close down their base here.

Shigeru rolls his eyes.

S: Sir, going back to the situation in Anmativeda, what will be our response? You are the chief architect of foreign policy. I just want to make sure that we in the government align with your decision.

Akashihito takes a seat behind his desk.

A: The recovery of survivors and bodies... The investigation of the crash—Who's going to investigate? Will it be the Seinoku Transport Safety Board? The complications of it crashing in a country with an ongoing civil war. There will be talks. Negotiations. There will be concessions.

S: Our plane was shot down but it's on us to make concessions. Funny.

A: Fucking funny it is. We will have to seek the assistance of a neutral power or a country that is trusted by both the Junta and the Free Government. What about Severoszlavia?

S: Severoszlavia is trusted by the Junta. The Free Government doesn't.

A: Perhaps Syrixia?

S: I think it is best to discuss this with Cabinet.

A: No. <He clears his throat> I will talk to the Anmativedan ambassador...or whatever representation the Junta has here. And the Free Government's representatives, whoever they are. Then I'll talk to the Syrixian ambassador. I'll seek the advice of my defense and foreign ministers before I settle our course of action.

OOC Notice: This post was approved by @Longboard.

City of Batagan, State of Seinoku
MuscleCh Studios
April 15, 2024
Evening

"I want to feel more of you."

The 67-year-old Hexastalian man flinched at the 29-year-old, Andrennian-speaking, Seinokan twink. The bed they are sitting on is surprisingly comfortable. The hotel, being more of a motel, is supposed to be cheap. He was not even supposed to be here if his new friends at Hero's Bar did not bring him here last night. They were a bunch of greedy drunks, egging him on to pay for their shots. But they were good drunks, too. As they predicted, his first time with a guy turned out to be good. Those glorious six hours were topped off with an offer from a balding, middle-aged Syrixian called Baba, the only one of his new friends who could pay for himself.

He did not immediately notice the Seinokan snaking his arms around his waist, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Shouldn't we wait for..." The Hexastalian pointed at Baba talking with the cameraman. They are speaking in Bahasa Maynilu so he could not understand. He could only speak either Andrennian or Mercanti.

The Seinokan hands are starting to dip lower. "We can practice a little, C.B." He smirks.

CB grabs the Seinokan's hands and pulls them up to his chest. The Seinokan groans.

"All good things come to those who wait."

The Seinokan pulls his hands away, putting them and his chin on CB's broad shoulders. "Hmm. I wonder if that is a Hexastalian virtue."

"If you're that curious..." CB glances over his shoulder. "We can meet later. After this."

The Seinokan scoots forward to press his chest on CB's back.

"I am very curious." The Seinokan whispers against his neck. "Like, how do you pronounce your real name?"

"Csaba is pronounced Chaba. My old friends in the army used to call me Nagy Csaba. That means Big Csaba."

"I can see that. It's always a pleasure working with men like you. It makes me wonder if the Gods intentionally designed only a few races to be well-endowed with such great gifts." He leans back to get on his knees, moving his lips closer to Csaba's ear. "Do all Hexastalian men look as good as you?"

Csaba flexes his bicep at the Seinokan's direction. "Not all. I had to be fit for my old job."

"I prefer you uniformed men. You don't look as obscene as those rhinoceroses in the gym, gulping down steroids like the air we breathe."

There is a sudden noise. It sounds like a TV news bumper. Csaba turns away from the Seinokan to look at the source and discovers the television in front of the bed is on, broadcasting a reporter narrating the past events of the day. He can tell because it is on a Mercanti news channel.

Based on the images shown on the screen. What he can hear is:


"I always hope for good news from Anmativeda." The Seinokan sighs. "I know people from there. Good people. They had no choice but to seek refuge here. To survive. It's sad."

"It's not complete hopelessness. I know Hexastalian NGOs helping them out."

"Really?! Tell me more..."

"It is a tricky situation with the kidnappings. We are working something out with the Skandan and Seinokan governments to remedy this."

City of Hokkyo
Offices of Daihoku Mercanti Financial
April 16, 2024
Morning

"So you got your scoop...from a porn studio?" asked Chitose Kizuki, the Editor-in-Chief. She had just arrived, putting down her purse on her desk with her umbrella. Tokuda let himself in before she entered the building and already made himself at home, sprawling his limbs on the sofa in front of Kizuki.

If you didn't put it that way is what Taneo Tokuda would have said if he was not a lowly assistant editor. All he can say is "Yes."

Kizuki rolls her eyes. "Won't it only become a story, I don't know, when it happens?"

"It will happen." Tokuda adjusted his glasses. "The Seinokan and Skandan governments are going to participate in a covert operation led by the Hexastalians. Isn't that newsworthy?"

"You mean likely going to participate in a hypothetical operation." Kizuki snorts. "Did that old college friend of yours manage to steal any incriminating files?" She shakes her head. "Did he sneak it out by shoving it where the sun doesn't shine?"

"Just to tell me if you're interested or not." Tokuda puts his hands behind his head and stretches his neck on top of the back pillows. He is not interested in playing this game with Kizuki right now. He did not pay a lot of money for the information anyway. What Kizuki said, while annoying, is true.

With no response from her, Tokuda decides to make the first move, standing up from the sofa. "I'll get more evidence."

"Good boy!"

Fuck you!

Korinsk, Yekteniya

Than Win took a drag off his cigarette and tapped some of the ash off the end. It was evening and the streets were quiet, most people avoided this area at night. Frankly, Than Win wished he could too. Every time he came here he felt like he was going to get jumped. He ducked into the nearby smoke shop quickly to get off the street.

Than Win approached the counter the same way he always did. The man who ran the store, a blonde man, glanced up from the newspaper he was reading behind the register. “Anything I can help you with, sir?”

“Do you have any Four Star Milds?* I’ve looked everywhere for them.” He replied as he snuffed out his cigarette in the tray.

The man behind the counter rolled his eyes, “Just what’s on the wall, sir.”

“You sure you don’t have anything in the back?” Than Win pressed.

The worker checked his watch and sighed. “Let’s check, shall we?” The man stood up from his stool and walked towards the back of the store. Than Win followed. Once the door to the storage closet closed behind them, the worker’s aloof demeanor dropped as he sat behind a small desk in the corner of the storage room. “So, Mr. Robin, what can I do for you today?”

Than Win didn’t even flinch at the usage of his supposedly secret codename. The man in front of him knew about any happening in the Yekteniyan underworld, his pseudonym was bound to leak to him at some point. “Well, Lloyd, my bosses have gotten word of what might be a new Junta agent in the city. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” He already knew the answer: nothing happened without the pseudonymous Lloyd’s knowledge. And still, somehow nobody knew anything about the guy. He was talented, probably trained by some intelligence agency. Than Win would’ve wanted to work with him more if the man wasn’t a freelancer.

Lloyd smiled and ran a hand through his blonde hair before leaning back in his chair. “I figured that’s what you might be coming to discuss. I’ve already prepared the data packet. Whereabouts, activities, the works. Once I get payment it’s yours, mate.”

Than Win raised an eyebrow, “He’s not been on the ground for very long. How did you get all this information so fast?”

Lloyd let out an exaggerated sigh, “The kid’s sloppy, mate. He’s been hitting brothels and bars almost every night for the last three weeks. I would charge you half price for this information if I wasn’t running a business here.” He reached down and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of vodka. He slid a shot across the table to Than Win. “I remember when I could charge double for Anmativedan agents. The Thhar’s run out of good ones by the looks of it.”

Than Win frowned and glanced at the shot in front of him. “I can’t tell if you’re implying that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s bad for business but good for the world. That’s the unfortunate reality of this line of work, what’s good for me is rarely good for anyone else.” He gestured to the shot, “It’s bad for business to kill one of your biggest customers, too. I’m a bit offended you’d think so low of me to do so.”

Than Win rolled his eyes and downed the shot before pulling out a wad of cash. “There’s your usual payment, Lloyd. The info can be sent to the same address.”

The info broker leafed through the Sodzh quickly. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always, mate.” As the two walked back towards the door, he passed two packs of Four Stars to Than Win. “On the house.”

The Next Day

Than Win was decidedly unimpressed with the Thhar’s new agent in Korinsk. From the information he’d been sold by Lloyd, the kid was indeed very sloppy. It was almost disgraceful that they thought this guy would be able to get away with it, he thought. Then again, given the poor state of the apartments they’d housed their agent in, it was likely the Thhar’s intelligence gatherers were right on cash. Than Win turned to the man walking behind him, slightly craning his neck to look the towering Yekteniyan in the eyes. “Are you ready for this, Sergei?”

“Da. The usual plan?” Sergei responded. He gestured to the duffel bag he was carrying with him. Than Win wasn’t entirely sure why the man ran with the Free Government of Anmativeda’s intelligence cell in Korinsk, but he was some very useful muscle with a local face.

Than Win nodded, “Yep. If it isn’t broken then there is no need to fix it, as the saying goes.” He pulled a notepad out of his pocket. “Apartment 214. This should be the one.” He knocked on the door calmly before stepping out of the way to let Sergei stand in his spot. The mountain of a man nearly filled the doorframe.

The door creaked open and an Anmativedan man’s face peered back. His nervous eyes behind thick, tape-repaired eyeglasses made him look almost pathetic to Than Win. The man spoke in heavily accented Yek, “Is there something I can help y-” His timid eyes suddenly went wide as Sergei launched a fist into the man’s torso. Than Win winced, a liver shot. He was all too familiar with how painful Sergei’s liver punches could be from their sparring sessions. The man- no, he wasn’t a man, the Thhar’s new spy was hardly more than a kid- doubled over in pain. A groan started to escape his mouth before Sergei pushed him to the floor and pinned the young spy.

Than Win reached into the discarded duffle bag and retrieved a handful of zip ties and a roll of duct tape. Sergei had placed the young man into a chokehold while using his body weight to keep his opponent from moving. Flailing arms and rosy cheeks gave way to pallor and a limp body. The kid’s glasses flopped unceremoniously onto the floor. Than Win watched as his partner rolled off of the unconscious spy. “You tie his hands and legs. I’ve got his head.” He tossed the zip ties to his Yekteniyan partner.

Now, Than Win produced from his bag of goodies a smaller black bag. He knelt next to the unconscious man and picked his head up. The roll of duct tape went around and around his head four times before Than Win ripped off the excess. Than Win inspected his handiwork. The youthful spy would be able to breathe but talking would be impossible. Next came the soundproof earmuffs. Then, the Free Government agent fitted the bag over his Thhar counterpart’s head and tightened it down. Not tight enough to choke the man but tight enough to prevent almost all light from entering. He picked the discarded glasses up off the floor and tucked them into his pocket.

He moved onto the man’s arms, Sergei had already bound them with zip ties. He flattened the excess and wrapped his duct tape around the man’s wrists and down to his fingers until the man’s hands looked more like a silvery cocoon. Then he moved onto the ankles and doubled up the zip tie restraints with yet more duct tape.

Than Win tossed the duct tape back into the bag and zipped it back up. “Now comes the hard part.” Than Win shouldered the duffle bag as Sergei hoisted their new kidnapee over his shoulder. “All quiet in your earpiece?” Than Win asked.

“Yes. We should be alright.” Unless their lookouts had been caught, the odds of the two men being caught by a homebody returning to their apartment in the middle of a workday seemed low. The pair descended the apartment block’s stairs with their precious cargo in tow.

Than Win popped his head out the door into the apartment building’s small lobby. As Sergei had suggested, it was empty. He motioned for his partner to follow him and waltzed into the second-rate establishment’s front room. Sergei made haste towards a rear exit as Than Win followed.

Sergei pushed open the door; an idling van was waiting for them behind the building. Sergei unceremoniously tossed their prisoner into the backseat before hopping into the passenger’s. Than Win flopped into the backseat and pushed a pile of dirty laundry on top of the unconscious enemy spy. “Alright, we’re good, let’s go!”

????, Yekteniya
That Evening

The small patch of forest was almost picturesque. Light from the setting sun filtered through the trees and leaves, reflected off the dapplings of the winter’s first snow. It was almost beautiful. The only thing holding it back was the out-of-place van and the two men who carefully double-checked their handiwork.

Than Win looked at the setup he and Sergei had made: two chairs facing each other, a third chair, and a table to the side. It wasn’t much but it would have to do for the time being. “Sergei, do you mind grabbing our friend?” He asked his colleague in his native tongue, Meng.

“I will retrieve him,” replied Sergei, also in Meng. Than Win was consistently impressed with Sergei’s Meng. It was very impressive.

He returned once more with their kidnappee in his hands. All the struggle seemed to have gone out of the hooded and restrained man as Sergei set him onto one of the seats and Than Win began duct-taping him to the folding chair. Then, Than Win settled into his own chair, across from his counterpart from the Junta. He mouthed to Sergei, “Showtime!”

The dark hood was ripped from the prisoner’s head and Sergei roughly removed the earmuffs beneath. Than Win would be the first thing he would have seen or heard in hours when he said, “Would you like your glasses? You can nod if you would like them.” The young man nodded slowly as he blinked rapidly to adapt to the sudden change in light. Than Win stood and produced the glasses he’d taken from the man earlier from a pocket. He gingerly placed them on the spy’s nose. “Okay, now hold still. I need to get this tape off of you so we can speak. It’s going to sting a little bit. I’m sorry about that.” Than Win did not feel particularly sorry for any pulled hairs from this Junta dog, in reality. But he needed to stick to his persona to establish trust.

The man took big gulps of air through his mouth as Than Win settled back into his chair. Sergei sat to the side, next to a table on which he had placed a tool bag. Than Win analyzed the spy in front of him: he was on the shorter side, underweight, young, perhaps in his early 20s, with short black hair with the faintest wisps of a mustache. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in the slums of Chianmei, or the poor Anmativedan diaspora in Korinsk, which was probably his goal. Than Win could sense the man was weak-willed and afraid. The Thhar really had not sent their best.

“I won’t waste your time.” Than Win started in Meng. “We both know why you’re here.”

“Fuck you.” The spy croaked.

Sergei’s voice growled, low and predatory, “Do not interrupt him, may loe.**” The massive man stood and unzipped his bag. He began unpacking its contents: a water bottle, a rag, a pair of pliers, a rope, a knife, a hammer, a chisel, and finally his pièce de résistance: a suppressed pistol that Sergei loaded in dramatic fashion. The spy opposite Than Win watched the whole process like a deer in headlights.

Than Win continued, “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Cliche, I know. You can either tell me the full truth or…” He nodded to his partner, “I leave you in his care. I am averse to violence, I get queasy at the sight of blood, but he is not. I want to help you get out of this life but you need to help me first.”

His Junta counterpart had attempted to mask his fear during Than Win’s speech. Very poorly, thought the interrogator. Sergei wore a much more convincing mask; he had the calm, confident, intimidating demeanor of a practiced killer. “Let’s start with something simple. What is your name?”

The man hesitated and shot a momentary glance at Sergei. “Phyo Nyan.”

Than Win shook his head, “It’s rude to start a conversation with a lie, you know. Do you think I’m stupid? That’s the name on your forged identification papers. What’s your real name?”

The man swallowed nervously; his eyes darted to Sergei, his gun, to Than Win, back to Sergei, and then he hung his head. “Myo Naing,” came the faintest whispers of an answer.

“What was that?”

“My name is Myo Naing.” The man said while keeping his eyes locked to the ground.

Than Win turned to his partner, “Is that true?” Sergei looked at a notepad beside him and nodded. Than Win returned his gaze to the spy opposite him. “See? Was that so hard? You must be thirsty, you like some water?”

The man brought his gaze up from the ground, eyebrows furrowed. “You already knew my name?”

“We already know plenty about you and your operations, kid.” Than Win stated, flatly. This was a lie of his own though; Lloyd had been unable to find the spy’s true name. The spy stared back with an expression of confusion spreading over his face. Good, thought Than Win, you want him to be confused. He’ll give up information more readily. “The question still stands though: would you like some water?”

The man’s eyes shot back to Sergei. “Is this a trick question? Are you going to waterboard me if I say yes?”

Than Win stood and walked to the back of the van. “No. If I’m asking you, there will be no harm to you.” He fetched a bottle of water from its plastic container. “I’m afraid I will have to hold it for you though; we can’t cut your hands loose just yet.”

Than Win sat back in his chair following the arduous process of bottle feeding a grown man like a baby. He cleared his throat, “That is the cornerstone of this little agreement we have now. Good answers will get you a reward, bad ones will see you punished. It is in all of our best interests for you to be truthful with me, yes?” He leaned forwards and locked eyes with Myo Naing. “Now, we know you’re a spy. We also know you didn’t work alone. Who is your handler?”

A pang of fear crossed Myo Naing’s face. He stammered, “I-I don’t know! I’ve never met the guy… I don’t even know if it is a guy! I just got messages on my phone that told me to do things, honestly!”

Than Win watched the man closely. Nothing in his body language or speech indicated a lie, only fear. “That’s alright. That’s how it works with this stuff sometimes. Can you try to recall anything about them?”

The Thhar novice thought for a moment, “…I heard someone call the handler Sayadaw***. That’s it.”

Than Win nodded, “Okay. Just one more question and then I will give a reward again. I’m sure you’re hungry as well. But first, did you commit your crimes alone, or did you work with other members of the Thhar’s intelligence team here in Yekteniya.”

The answer came far too quickly. “No.”

“No? No, what?”

Myo Naing replied, “I did it alone.”

He’s lying, Than Win thought, it doesn’t line up with what we know. He answered too quickly. “Myo Naing, why are you lying to me?”

The Thhar spy went pale, “I’m not!” Than Win leaned forward again and raised an eyebrow. Sergei leaned towards his tools. “…there were some other men, sometimes.”

“Okay. Do you know their names? Their addresses? Their faces? Anything at all, really. I’m trying to get you out of this mess, kid. Help me help you.”

Myo Naing swallowed hard, “They never used their real names and I couldn’t tell you their fake ones. I’ve forgotten. I haven’t seen them in at least a month.” He once again glanced at Sergei.

“That’s alright. Would you like some food?” Myo Naing nodded and Than Win retrieved a can of curry from the van. “We’re going to cut your hands loose now. Don’t try to do anything foolish, now.” He slashed through the Thhar spy’s hand restraints and pulled the duct tape off. A plastic spork and the curry were placed in Myo Naing’s hands. He began eating hungrily with what limited range of motion he had been afforded. Once again, Than Win returned to his chair. He watched the enemy spy eat ravenously. A pack of cigarettes appeared from his pocket and a lit Four Star hung from Than Win’s lips soon after. He outstretched his arm in offering.

Myo Naing answered between mouthfuls of curry, “No thank you.” The cigarettes returned to his interrogator's pocket.

Than Win took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled. “You know, you’re pretty young for a spy. How old are you, Myo Naing?”

“20.” Small specks of curry came out of his mouth alongside the answer. He scraped at the bottom of the can as he continued to eat.

Than Win raised an eyebrow; this was new information for him. Lloyd hadn’t been able to confirm Myo Naing’s age either. “20? You weren’t even an adult when the Thhar seized power. When did you get recruited?”

The novice spy discarded his spork and now nearly spotless can. He looked back to Than Win, “About three months ago, I think.”

“Three months ago?” Than Win was now quite curious about the circumstances of the man before him. “That’s not that long.”

Myo Naing nodded. “Yeah. I think I talked to the recruiter guy about two weeks before I went to training. Then I spent a month and a half there and then a month and a half here in Korinsk, more or less.”

Than Win was offended and surprised. This kid had spent six weeks in training before being sent off into the world. Than Win had spent over a year in Skanda when he had undergone his intelligence education. “A month and a half? Kid, I do not think the Junta has your best interests in mind here.” The Thhar was desperate. Every other spy he’d interrogated had had at least double that. Even that had been an accelerated program. A month and a half.

“What?” Myo Naing said defensively, “Of course they did! They trained me well! They said I was an asset.”

The FGA spy shook his head, “No, they don’t. I trained for two years. My partner did too. You are expendable to them. Nobody is coming to rescue you.” Than Win softened his tone, and a hint of genuine concern for his enemy crept into his voice, “Myo Naing, they tricked you.” That was a lie- he’d only trained for just over a year- but it sounded more impressive than the truth.

Than Win could tell that the Thhar’s operative knew his reality, but that he couldn’t accept it. “No. They told me I would just be running errands in Korinsk. That it would help defeat the communists in the Free Government. No!”

“Kid, I spent four years fighting the Communists before you were born. I want to help you get out of this, I’m being honest.” He puffed on his cigarette. “Help me out a little bit here. Can you tell me anything?”

Myo Naing hung his head again and was quiet for a while. The internal struggle was obvious to both Free Government agents. Finally, he looked up again, “I’ll tell you everything I know, alright?” He exhaled hard. “I already told you everything I know about the handler. One of the guys I met on one of the missions, had this stupid mustache. It was big and bushy, like his eyebrows. And he was white, Yekteniyan.” He inhaled again, “In Little Chianmei there’s a computer repair shop that they sent me to a few times. I don’t know what they had me pick up but it looked tech-y.”

Than Win grinned, everything was coming together now. Myo Naing continued, “There’s some supply officer at the Korinsk garrison, he’s super corrupt. He sells us all sorts of stuff.” He thought for a second longer, “My rent usually came from one bank account. I don’t know whose it is but they paid my rent so it’s probably a government one. Oh, and there’s a smoke shop where the owner is some sort of blonde super spy or something because he knows everything. Or so I’ve heard, I never went there.”

Than Win nodded slowly, his grin widening. “That’s very good, Myo Naing, very good! I think we are done for now. We will take you back to our facility and they will debrief you more there. Thank you for your cooperation!” He stood and added, “Would you like some more water? There’s plenty in the van.”

Myo Naing nodded his approval of the drink and Than Win went to the van a final time. He pulled out a water bottle and unscrewed the cap. This time it would have a fun addition as he poured a white powder of crushed medicine tablets into the water. The FGA operative walked back and handed the bottle to his young Thhar counterpart, who took it and began to drink. As the bottle emptied, Than Win commented, “Just so you know, there was melatonin in that drink. It’s just a precaution. I’m sorry.”

Despite his initial panic, slowly the drugs got the better of Myo Naing as he drifted off to sleep. Than Win turned to his partner, Sergei, and said, “Alright then. Let’s get packed up and get out of here.”



*Four Star is an Anmativedan cigarette company, it has decreased production since the civil war started
**may loe, literally: mother fucker
***Sayadw is an honorific used for senior monks