Exam Paper

[Sanarija]

This sample is from my thread "Operation: North Wind"

Third Directorate Intelligence Compilation Office

"Shit. Whoever pulled the trigger first is a f*cking dead man. I don't know if we can keep this stupid f*cking government floating," Mark rubbed his hand on his forehead. "At this rate, I don't know if me and Una will ever be able to move out of the city. f*cking unstable shithole of a country."

"We could cry wolf and vie for refugee status in Kamooko," Misha dug into a bag of chips from the vending machine.

"Nah, they'll find our military records and hang us for war crimes," Vazili poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Alright, alright. I have an idea. We get some dumb f*cking bureaucrat to take at least one of us along as part of a diplomatic envoy. Mark, you speak Markish, right?" Misha crunched down on his salty snack

"A little bit. Are you gonna be able to find a diplomat that speaks Markish who just so happens to also be disgusted by a massacre which evidently kind of gives them job security?" Mark let off a grim chuckle.

"Actually, you know the Markvale affairs director at the foreign ministry, Kjel Mänstrom?" Vazili smiled. "Apparently he's some crybaby diehard Libkrat who has done nothing but go on and on about the massacre."

Mark looked up with an ear to ear grin, "This sounds too good to be true. Are you utterly serious?"

"Why don't we arrange an appointment with Mr. Mänstrom?" Misha threw his chip bag away as he walked out of the break room and to his desk.

Foreign Ministry

The three colleagues, dressed in their finest work attire walked into the lobby of Kjel Mänstrom's office. The girl at the desk—her nameplate said 'Ms. Lœrner'—asked, "Do you men have an appointment?"

"Uhm, yeah. It should be under Agent Janssen, War Ministry Third Directorate." Mark showed his badge.

Ms. Lœrner's eyes widened as she frantically buzzed her boss, "Mr. Mänstrom, they're here. Let them in? Okay." She looked up, "Mr. Mänstrom will see you now."

In businesslike succession they walked through the door to the office, Mark passed a note onto Kjel's desk, "If the room is bugged, tell me now." Kjel shook his head. Mark, in a low tone of voice began, "Alright. We have heard your distaste at the recent actions of the republic. We can help you get into Kamooko if you help us stay."

"How do you know my political conversations?" Mänstrom hissed.

"With all due respect, sir. Word gets around. The basis is that we need someone like you to set up a bullshit exile government in Kamooko. However seriously you take it is up to you," Misha glossed around the office, observing all the little trinkets.

Vazili also chimed in, "Our friend Mark here can get you a meeting there. He's very charismatic, you know?"

"Before I leave, I will drop a file on your desk. When arrangements are made, I will call you and mention a north wind. There will be a foreign ministry aircraft waiting for you at Kassau International. For God's sake, take the f*cking file with you and don't forget it. Once you're in Kamooko, we'll see how it goes from there. Are you in?"

"Alright, what do I have to lose? My career died a long time ago. Anything to sign?"

"Life contract. It says that if you don't show, Vaz and Misha will have full disclosure to gut you like a fish," Mark slapped the document down on the desk.

"Here I go, signing my life away—" Kjel scoffed.

"Only temporarily," Misha smiled.

Edited February 3, 2021 by Republic of Sanarija (see edit history)