08-24-2023, 01:55 AM
(Joint Post with Xiomera)
Undisclosed location, Monter Province, Eiria
"So, this is the bastard, eh?"
Luk Mēšel, Senior Officer of the EICA's Office of Counterintelligence Operations, asked as he stared through the one-way glass at the restrained man in the interrogation room. His voice was gruff and slightly muted. Despite the room's extensive soundproofing, no employee from the Ministry of Intelligence would ever trust it enough to shout state secrets near a potential foreign operative.
The agent at the desk nodded. "His name, allegedly is Raimonds Priede. He was born in Xiomera, and his Eirian parents put him on the Foreign Birth Registry. Local police found a hotel keycard on him while he was captured, and so one of our field agents raided the room soon after. They recovered I.D. materials, cash, and various other pocket litter, as well as a few tools that we suspect he used to make the explosive device." She placed a wad of Lunens and an Eirian Passport on the table. "We're still trying to track down any known associates or additional information."
Mēšel inspected the confiscated evidence, trying to touch them as little as possible. "Alright. Good work so far, keep me posted." He cleared his throat, side-eyeing the door. "Wish me luck. Dieuv, this is going to be horrible. If this guy is a Xiomeran operative after all, he'll be such a pain in the ass to interrogate."
With a final sigh, he walked through the door and took a seat at the metal table. His face was neutral and unrevealing. "Hello, Prisoner 10642. Enjoying our accomodations?"
Priede smiled in response. "They're not so bad. I've seen worse."
"Is that right? Well, we must not be trying hard enough, then." A humorless smile came over the Director's face. "We don't tend to give the usual prison amenities for foreign operatives and terrorists. Or failed terrorists, in your case. Foiled by a security guard and an engineer, I can't imagine how embarrasing that would be. How is the taser burn treating you, by the way?"
"Again, I've had worse," Priede shrugged. "As for being foiled, even the best at their job can have a bad day. Don't read too much into your security guard getting lucky."
"She got lucky? You tried to pick a fight with a trained Narasa* who had a taser. You're lucky that you got the first blow. I've had friends who have trained in competitive Nara, and I'll fully admit that they could beat me to a pulp, even on my best day." Mēšel grinned. "We're actually in the process of hiring your captor. With raw potential like that, imagine the edge she'd have with some training."
"Ah, but you also have no idea what training I have had. You are making some pretty grand assumptions. Besides, how much skill does it take to bring a taser to a fight?" Priede gave another nonchalant shrug.
"And yet, regardless of all of your posturing, you are still here, in handcuffs. Perhaps the Xiomeran Empire made a mistake in paying your salary. I'm sure they could've used that money in much better ways, after all."
"And who is to say they aren't?" Priede laughed. "I am sure you can read recent headlines in your country as well as anyone. You've been having a few spots of trouble lately, I imagine."
"No thanks to you, that's for certain." The Director leaned forward in his seat. "And that must kill you, eh? You've been indoctrinated for so long, you've had that hate burned into you. And finally, in your moment of glory... you failed. You failed everything you believed in."
"I have had other moments of glory. That shall have to suffice. Unless, of course, I live on to fight another day. And I probably will. After all, the government you represent is probably too weak to kill me." Yet another shrug. "You know, this country had a chance at greatness during Darrin's rule. You lot chose to squander that. Is it any wonder men such as myself despise you?"
Mēšel's face went blank. "...You're one of those guys, huh? You are still in the cult of personality centered around a deranged narcissist. Strange, I thought you would have been smarter than that." He leaned back. "Were you even in Eiria during Darrin's Regime? Or did you get the luxury of watching it all from the sidelines?"
"Oh, you should already know where I was during that time, if you know as much about me as you claim. But let's say...I was just an admirer of the General." Priede chuckled slightly. "And what you call cults of personality, others would simply call respect for strong leaders. Unlike, say, the ones running Eiria now."
"Stick your head in the sand all you'd like, Darrin was solely after power. He didn't give a shit about the country, or his supporters. The attention, the power, it was his drug. And he did everything he could to get it." Mēšel took his suit coat off and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing a web of scars, some shallow, others large and long. "You just have to realize that he lost. Eiria may not have executed anyone in almost a century, but if he takes one step outside that prison cell... Let's just say that he'd disappear mysteriously in record time. And no one would give a shit."
"Oh, I doubt that no one would care. But you're right, the past is the past. So as entertaining as it is to debate this with you, why don't you ask me what you really want to know?"
"Alright. How long have you been a Xiomeran spy, Prisoner 10642?"
"For about ten years now. Normally I wouldn't be so forthcoming, but I assume even you have been able to connect the dots by now. What's with the number, by the way? Not even using my name? I thought people from Eiria were supposed to be friendly," Priede smirked.
The Director tried to mask his surprise at the admission. "Again, we don't exactly extend the same courtesies to spies and terrorists that we do to our own people and guests."
An agent walked through the door behind Mēšel, handed him a folder, then walked out without even glancing at Priede. Mēšel looked the contents of the folder over, his green eyes occassionally darting back up to the prisoner across from him. "Have you ever been to New Riga, 10642? I hear that the snow up there this time of year makes the Nereus Sea look beautiful."
"I've been to many places in Eiria. For both business and pleasure." Priede smirked again; it wasn’t an outright admission, but it also wasn't a denial.
"Right, right. I went up there a couple years ago for the Olympiad, and wow, it was special. I got to see so more than just the skating, swimming and water polo that they show on television now and then. It really was incomparable." The Eirian counterintelligence agent kept his expression neutral. "Are you much of a sports fan, 10642?"
"I am not. Nor am I a huge fan of athletes." Priede's smirk grew slightly wider at that remark.
"I see." Mēšel cracked his knuckes. "I take it you know what I'm getting at?"
"I mean, you're not particularly subtle." Priede sighed. "Yes, I know where this is going."
"I'm sure you do, given what's in this dossier. It's amazing, what one mistake can reveal. You're looking at a life sentence now. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the Huenyans tried to assasinate you in your prison cell. Murdering civilian asylees isn't exactly something that earns you a lot of friends."
"A life sentence is just 365 opportunities a year to escape from one of your soft prisons. As for the Huenyans, those inferior fools do not frighten me."
"Inferior? Well, your precious employers lost a war against our 'weak' leaders and those 'inferior fools.' What does that say about them?"
"We did not lose. We chose to stop fighting. A choice that can always be reversed, when the most opportune moment arises. That is the thing you don't understand about Xiomera. We are infinitely patient. We didn't build an empire that stood for six centuries in the first place by being hasty. When the time is right, the Empress or her descendants will lead us and a new empire will arise." Priede uttered these words without a hint of anger or heat in his voice. The calm and matter-of-fact delivery of the statement was somehow more unsettling than it would have been if he had been angry. It spoke of an unshakable conviction.
"Wow. You just drink their poisonous words right up, don't you? You're the poster child for recruitment by dictators." The Director looked Priede dead in the eye. "Are there any further attacks planned, Prisoner 10642?"
"That part of the conversation is where I stop being forthcoming, except to say that of course there are. We will never stop attacking you as long as you continue to interfere with our agenda." Priede had stopped smiling. "As far as specific plans, however, the only response you will get from me is 'Priede, Raimonds, serial number II-89-7829'."
"Then I see no reason to continue this conversation." Mēšel stood, closing the folder and reaching for his suit jacket. He paused, and rolled up his right sleeve up to his bicep. A large scar lined the front of his arm. "I got this one fighting traitors like you during the civil war. Only, now, I'm merciful." He deftly slipped into the sleeves of his jacket, sneering. "This time, you won't get the easy out of being shot. Hope you enjoy the cold mountain ranges up here, because that's all you'll be seeing for a long time."
Undisclosed location, Monter Province, Eiria
"So, this is the bastard, eh?"
Luk Mēšel, Senior Officer of the EICA's Office of Counterintelligence Operations, asked as he stared through the one-way glass at the restrained man in the interrogation room. His voice was gruff and slightly muted. Despite the room's extensive soundproofing, no employee from the Ministry of Intelligence would ever trust it enough to shout state secrets near a potential foreign operative.
The agent at the desk nodded. "His name, allegedly is Raimonds Priede. He was born in Xiomera, and his Eirian parents put him on the Foreign Birth Registry. Local police found a hotel keycard on him while he was captured, and so one of our field agents raided the room soon after. They recovered I.D. materials, cash, and various other pocket litter, as well as a few tools that we suspect he used to make the explosive device." She placed a wad of Lunens and an Eirian Passport on the table. "We're still trying to track down any known associates or additional information."
Mēšel inspected the confiscated evidence, trying to touch them as little as possible. "Alright. Good work so far, keep me posted." He cleared his throat, side-eyeing the door. "Wish me luck. Dieuv, this is going to be horrible. If this guy is a Xiomeran operative after all, he'll be such a pain in the ass to interrogate."
With a final sigh, he walked through the door and took a seat at the metal table. His face was neutral and unrevealing. "Hello, Prisoner 10642. Enjoying our accomodations?"
Priede smiled in response. "They're not so bad. I've seen worse."
"Is that right? Well, we must not be trying hard enough, then." A humorless smile came over the Director's face. "We don't tend to give the usual prison amenities for foreign operatives and terrorists. Or failed terrorists, in your case. Foiled by a security guard and an engineer, I can't imagine how embarrasing that would be. How is the taser burn treating you, by the way?"
"Again, I've had worse," Priede shrugged. "As for being foiled, even the best at their job can have a bad day. Don't read too much into your security guard getting lucky."
"She got lucky? You tried to pick a fight with a trained Narasa* who had a taser. You're lucky that you got the first blow. I've had friends who have trained in competitive Nara, and I'll fully admit that they could beat me to a pulp, even on my best day." Mēšel grinned. "We're actually in the process of hiring your captor. With raw potential like that, imagine the edge she'd have with some training."
"Ah, but you also have no idea what training I have had. You are making some pretty grand assumptions. Besides, how much skill does it take to bring a taser to a fight?" Priede gave another nonchalant shrug.
"And yet, regardless of all of your posturing, you are still here, in handcuffs. Perhaps the Xiomeran Empire made a mistake in paying your salary. I'm sure they could've used that money in much better ways, after all."
"And who is to say they aren't?" Priede laughed. "I am sure you can read recent headlines in your country as well as anyone. You've been having a few spots of trouble lately, I imagine."
"No thanks to you, that's for certain." The Director leaned forward in his seat. "And that must kill you, eh? You've been indoctrinated for so long, you've had that hate burned into you. And finally, in your moment of glory... you failed. You failed everything you believed in."
"I have had other moments of glory. That shall have to suffice. Unless, of course, I live on to fight another day. And I probably will. After all, the government you represent is probably too weak to kill me." Yet another shrug. "You know, this country had a chance at greatness during Darrin's rule. You lot chose to squander that. Is it any wonder men such as myself despise you?"
Mēšel's face went blank. "...You're one of those guys, huh? You are still in the cult of personality centered around a deranged narcissist. Strange, I thought you would have been smarter than that." He leaned back. "Were you even in Eiria during Darrin's Regime? Or did you get the luxury of watching it all from the sidelines?"
"Oh, you should already know where I was during that time, if you know as much about me as you claim. But let's say...I was just an admirer of the General." Priede chuckled slightly. "And what you call cults of personality, others would simply call respect for strong leaders. Unlike, say, the ones running Eiria now."
"Stick your head in the sand all you'd like, Darrin was solely after power. He didn't give a shit about the country, or his supporters. The attention, the power, it was his drug. And he did everything he could to get it." Mēšel took his suit coat off and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing a web of scars, some shallow, others large and long. "You just have to realize that he lost. Eiria may not have executed anyone in almost a century, but if he takes one step outside that prison cell... Let's just say that he'd disappear mysteriously in record time. And no one would give a shit."
"Oh, I doubt that no one would care. But you're right, the past is the past. So as entertaining as it is to debate this with you, why don't you ask me what you really want to know?"
"Alright. How long have you been a Xiomeran spy, Prisoner 10642?"
"For about ten years now. Normally I wouldn't be so forthcoming, but I assume even you have been able to connect the dots by now. What's with the number, by the way? Not even using my name? I thought people from Eiria were supposed to be friendly," Priede smirked.
The Director tried to mask his surprise at the admission. "Again, we don't exactly extend the same courtesies to spies and terrorists that we do to our own people and guests."
An agent walked through the door behind Mēšel, handed him a folder, then walked out without even glancing at Priede. Mēšel looked the contents of the folder over, his green eyes occassionally darting back up to the prisoner across from him. "Have you ever been to New Riga, 10642? I hear that the snow up there this time of year makes the Nereus Sea look beautiful."
"I've been to many places in Eiria. For both business and pleasure." Priede smirked again; it wasn’t an outright admission, but it also wasn't a denial.
"Right, right. I went up there a couple years ago for the Olympiad, and wow, it was special. I got to see so more than just the skating, swimming and water polo that they show on television now and then. It really was incomparable." The Eirian counterintelligence agent kept his expression neutral. "Are you much of a sports fan, 10642?"
"I am not. Nor am I a huge fan of athletes." Priede's smirk grew slightly wider at that remark.
"I see." Mēšel cracked his knuckes. "I take it you know what I'm getting at?"
"I mean, you're not particularly subtle." Priede sighed. "Yes, I know where this is going."
"I'm sure you do, given what's in this dossier. It's amazing, what one mistake can reveal. You're looking at a life sentence now. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the Huenyans tried to assasinate you in your prison cell. Murdering civilian asylees isn't exactly something that earns you a lot of friends."
"A life sentence is just 365 opportunities a year to escape from one of your soft prisons. As for the Huenyans, those inferior fools do not frighten me."
"Inferior? Well, your precious employers lost a war against our 'weak' leaders and those 'inferior fools.' What does that say about them?"
"We did not lose. We chose to stop fighting. A choice that can always be reversed, when the most opportune moment arises. That is the thing you don't understand about Xiomera. We are infinitely patient. We didn't build an empire that stood for six centuries in the first place by being hasty. When the time is right, the Empress or her descendants will lead us and a new empire will arise." Priede uttered these words without a hint of anger or heat in his voice. The calm and matter-of-fact delivery of the statement was somehow more unsettling than it would have been if he had been angry. It spoke of an unshakable conviction.
"Wow. You just drink their poisonous words right up, don't you? You're the poster child for recruitment by dictators." The Director looked Priede dead in the eye. "Are there any further attacks planned, Prisoner 10642?"
"That part of the conversation is where I stop being forthcoming, except to say that of course there are. We will never stop attacking you as long as you continue to interfere with our agenda." Priede had stopped smiling. "As far as specific plans, however, the only response you will get from me is 'Priede, Raimonds, serial number II-89-7829'."
"Then I see no reason to continue this conversation." Mēšel stood, closing the folder and reaching for his suit jacket. He paused, and rolled up his right sleeve up to his bicep. A large scar lined the front of his arm. "I got this one fighting traitors like you during the civil war. Only, now, I'm merciful." He deftly slipped into the sleeves of his jacket, sneering. "This time, you won't get the easy out of being shot. Hope you enjoy the cold mountain ranges up here, because that's all you'll be seeing for a long time."
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