<span style="font-weight: bold">East Berlin, 2:30 p.m.</span><br/><br/>Hanz-Eren Händler, aged 26, sat at one end of a long table, surrounded by men in uniforms and suits of varying forms. His own attire was an impeccable black suit, tailored, with a double-breasted jacket and burgundy necktie over a striped white shirt. His coat hung over his chair - a plain brown garment of utility, adding an air of authenticity when worn over the somewhat stiff and superficial suit. On one peg on his chair hung the wide-rimmed black hat he favoured to keep the sun out of his light grey eyes, revealing his slick, ebony hair. His colleagues all sat around the table debating over methods, tools, and pieces of information, squabbling amongst themselves about how security in East Berlin may be maintained. Hanz-Eren listened with only passing interest, his mind on altogether different things.<span style="font-style: italic">Let them nitpick over the details if they please. My matters are already settled.</span>He caught himself daydreaming, and snapped back.<br/><br/>"... not to mention our recently educated. The western propaganda may result in an exodus of the bright and young if it is not stopped." The man giving this statement was not KGB nor Statspolizei - he was an army representative, a major of Spetsnaz's most renown intelligence corps, GRU. He was, however, an imbecile who got his commission because of friends in high places - and the Russian, bless his soul, did not understand how Germany worked. Hanz-Eren coughed a little, commanding the attention of all the men in the room - none of which were younger than him.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Entschuldigung</span>, Major, but I hear a lot of warnings we have all heard before, but no suggestion as to how the matter may be resolved. As skilled as you and your men might be, GRU does not know anything about post-Reich Germany. For this matter, I suggest you listen to the rest of us, and rather make observations when you have something substantial to add. Safeguarding the greater good of the society is difficult enough without tedium about what we're facing." He leans back in his chair, satisfied with the shocked look on the major's face and the approving nods of the more experienced, skilled agents. Best of all, the major would not dare to speak up, craven as he was. KGB was not to be trifled with, even by GRU. Hanz-Eren keeps speaking, now having all of their attentions. "Our focus from here on out should be not of stopping the people's movement, but map it instead. This allows for a better flow amongst the workforce, better morale, and it allows us to strike at hubs of the malcontents more effectively. Means of emigration control have been crude at best up until this point." He takes a deep breath - mostly for effect. This<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>politics, after all. "What I am about to suggest to you, comrades, may come as a bit of a surprise."<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">East Berlin, 4.21 p.m.</span><br/><br/>Hanz-Eren walked into his favourite restaurant, satisfied with how the meeting had turned out.<span style="font-style: italic">With luck, the supervisor will ask me to serve as the Statspolizei's auxillary. Then I can really do something productive.</span>As he had a look around, however, he was momentarily surprised. The place was a bit more crowded than usual, the tables mostly full. He was just about to turn and leave when a young woman called out to him. "<span style="font-weight: bold">Excuse me! I am just finishing here, if you would like to sit down, I will be out in a minute.</span>" Hanz-Eren turned to find the source of the call and found himself delightfully surprised. The woman was young, attractive, and seemed to genuinely want to help him. He smiled and walked over to the table, taking off his hat and coat, hanging them on the chair in the same manner as he had in the meeting room.<br/><br/>"Thank you,<span style="font-style: italic">Fraulein</span>. I would have been most disappointed if I could not have my daily tea and scone. Did you know this place is run by an englishman? Afternoon tea is one of England's better notions, I must say." He smiled gently as he sat down, hopping right into the conversation in a cordial manner as was his habit. One never knew what one might find in a conversation. "If you have the time, I would like to offer you something by way of thanks. Would you like anything to drink? Something to snack on, perhaps?" He pushed the menu on the table aside, already knowing what he wanted. The offer was made in kind to the girl's - casual and uninsistent. An offer, plain and simple. Though Hanz-Eren's good mood was decidedly good.