Cloak and Dagger Fan-fiction: Champion

Prague. A quaint little cafe.


'Would you care for sugars in your tea?' Hasan said with his outstretched hands holding the kettle.
'Why are you asking me this before pouring the tea?'
'I find the sugar cubes to dissolve faster when the hot liquid falls upon them,' Hasan replied with his usual mannerism affected with sincerity.


Pink Hitler readjusted her posture such that the knife taped under the table was directly above her knee.
Hasan was starting to talk a lot of bullshit. It was usually a sign that he was stalling. She hadn't completely unanticipated this. Pink Hitler had chosen the specific seat at the cafe because with it her back was facing a bus-stop. If indeed a sniper had her in his cross-airs, she would have many opportunities to stab Hasan and disappear while the buses that came in between her and her potential assassin disrupted the line of sight.


'I do not care for sugar. I am instead wondering why the PLO's bag-man is approaching me this far from Cyprus. Isn't that where your territory ends now? King Abdullah should have taught you a stronger lesson.'
'Ah, Frau Hitler. Why must you sprinkle salt on the wounds of our people? We have never been at such odds,' Hasan mock-pleaded.
'I like to anticipate the change of times and the world. If I am to believe that Fatah has limits, then I assure you I will enforce such limits if only to ensure that my perception is not at fault,' was her reply.
'This Cold-War that they call it, it is not yet over Frau Hitler. And we are in the middle of it. Cyprus, nay, Damascus even is too small a concern.'


Legends were made in this dark world that was unseen in plain sight, of hit-men and terrorists. With such words, many were created.
'Your business had better be Kosher. Remember where you are...I am East-Europe...Bitch.'
'Kosher... Ha. You think me such a noob do you not? This honour that you wave around. This disassociation from us anti-semites by an 'anti-imperialist' like yourself?' said Hasan, his words reeking with unprofessional emotions.
'Its principles that make us survive in this business Hasan. You wouldn't understand, because not only are you a noob, you're small-time,' said Pink Hitler before sipping the first of her tea.
'Ha! A noob you may call me (and I'm not admitting that I am one, seriously bring your mother and your laptop) but I see enough of your kind deteriorating around you. How does it feel to know that Carlos the Jackal now hides in Tanzania like a refugee among my muslim cousins? Or better yet, your beloved Castro sent Che Guevara to his death in his last mission...LOL'

 

Pink Hitler knew better than to let Hasan know how composed she really was in the face of such insult. She also judged from Hasan's gall that he was confident about his security in her presence. There probably was a team observing them now. 

She drew a red-bag of choco-balls from her purse, not only to give Hasan a sudden fright of her reaching for her purse. She needed chocolate. 

'Would you like a Maaalteser Hasan?'

'What?'

'Maalteser you paindoo! Never had them?'

'Malte- Nevermind.'

'Sure? What services does your faction require anyway?' she asked while munching on maltesers "maaltesers".

'We need to put an end to the skirmishes on our refugee camps. One statement must be made...'

'Where do you propose making such a statement?'

'In Munich.'

'The Olympics...Interesting.'

'I thought you would approve.'

'I do not approve. I do not condone or condemn. While your rufoogis have my deepest sympathies... Such a public spectacle of things is not within my taste of work.'

'Think it psychological warfare. Israel has but one team of athletes this year. What better place to strike than there.'

'Logistics is all I'm promising. Provided my terms are met.'

'The real Hitler did not combat zionism with logistics.'

'Yes, the real Hitler created the zionists.'

Hasan could not out-think her. Not on his best day with water-melon flavoured hubba bubba and 14 hours of sleep. He said reluctantly 'Agreed'.

'Good. I have some interests in Egypt which need sorting. That is my price.'

'Done.'

'Then we're in Business.'

Hasan did not conceal his excitement. 'A black September it will be.'

Pink Hitler could only smirk at his melodrama. 'You should tell Arafat to keep that as a name. Anything else Hasan?'

'Well, I had a question,' his ears turning red and his girly hands clutching each other.

'Uhh...Yes Hasan?'

'Did you really...sneak a Korean escort into the U.N summit?'

'Yes, I did.'

'How did you fool the security into letting her in?'

'I'm very convincing Hasan.'

'How?'