Berlin, Germany - 1991

Gale entered the dimly lit bar, a sense of apprehension creeping into her chest. She scanned the room, taking in the ragtag assemblage of patrons; a diverse mix of ex-military, government agents, and the unfortunate souls who fell into the radically mercurial realm of espionage and criminal activity. She moved deeper into the bar, her black, gothic boots thumping rhythmically on the hardwood floor, earning curious glances from the patrons. She wore a black turtleneck and jean-skirt, something she noted in a local fashion magazine.

Her heightened senses, the side effect of her supernatural powers, immediately detected his presence.

"I told you I was heading straight to the bar. You didn’t believe me?’ She turned her eyes meeting Lieutenant John Baker's deep brown ones, as he leaned against the bar, nursing a long-neck beer. His dark brown hair and stubbled chin gave him an unkempt appearance, raw and rugged, clearly out of uniform. Baker's distinctive features stood out in stark contrast to the restrained elegance of his presence.

Gale's fiery red pigtails swayed softly as she approached, her body-type curvaceous, a sensual woman with a mesmerizing presence.

"Convenience. I needed a beer, and we just so happened to be meeting your contact at a bar. So, I came early." LT Baker smirked, his sharp eyes never leaving hers.

Gale tried to hide her irritation with his interference, but it still showed enough for LT Baker to notice.

"Oh, come on. You knew at some point I had to meet the great Johannes Crowe." He pouted playfully, but Gale wasn't fooled for a second. Since their very first assignment together, Lieutenant John Baker had been nothing but professional, and this newfound charm felt foreign, fake...untrustworthy. Conscious of her skepticism, Baker offered a gentle smile. "But really, my only goal is to ensure your safety."

Gale sighed and sauntered toward the bar, "Everybody seems to be concerned about my safety lately." Her words dripped with sarcasm, but there was no denying the underlying hint of worry. Gale had learned long ago that appearances could be deceiving. The seemingly carefree woman before him had engaged in several risky operations spanning continents and cultures, gathering intelligence and taking down dangerous adversaries.

LT Baker blew air through his lips and approached the bar as well, "It's only because we care, Tanner."

Her green eyes flashed, "I've got everything under control, Lieutenant." She perched herself gracefully on a bar stool, maintaining eye contact, a twinkle in her eyes. Gale was not one to back down from a challenge.

The bartender didn't spare them a passing glance, evidently unsurprised by the presence of such odd characters. He absentmindedly wiped the countertop and poured them two shots of whiskey, sliding them towards the pair. "From the bass player."

Music started to play from the stage, a mix of electronic pop and standard electric guitars. The lead singer of the band, dressed in a polyester suit better suited for the prior decade, was on the microphone. Ironically, while the lyrics of the song playing were meant to evoke a sense of rabble-rousing rebellion; he wore a face and spoke a monologue that told a tale of disillusionment. "Abendliche Grüße, one and all! It's been almost two years since that cursed wall fell and we now bask in the glorious changes in society... and by that, I mean no changes at all. Two, three, four! Eins, zwei, dreil; Na, es is nix dabeil; Na, wenn ich euch erzähl' die G'schicht'..." The lead singer continued, his cynicism resonating throughout the bar.

Gale wrinkled her nose in distaste. Still youthful, she never understood how people could be so negative all the time and found their constant grumblings tiresome.

She noticed playing bass a tall, lean figure, drawing the attention of the bar's occupants. The lighting cast an eerie glow upon the man's slicked-back jet-black hair, outlining his dark eyes and the stylish stubble gracing his angular jaw.

Johannes Crowe, who was previously a faceless entity, came to life on stage, playing bass with a captivating, but draining energy, channeling the disillusionment of the lyrics.

Meanwhile, Gale's large piercing green eyes never shifted from the hypnotic performance. She couldn't help but be drawn to the honest revelation of emotions exhibited through his music. She raised her glass of whiskey in a silent toast. He simply nodded back in affirmation. All that needed to be spoken between two old friends.

As Gale and LT Baker sipped their drinks, they stared at each other wordlessly, their eyes expressed what they wouldn't dare utter; respect, fear, and longing. The tension surrounding them made the air crackle, pregnant with meaning, thick with unspoken emotions.

Finally, LT Baker's eyes drifted toward the man playing the bass, "Johannes Crowe, huh? Quite the legend. If there is such a thing in our line of work." He broke their intense eye contact and focused on Johannes.

Gale nodded in agreement, "Indeed. You can spend half a year in a city with him, become fast friends, and realize that you don't really know him at all. Spies, especially those like Crowe, are very good at wearing masks." The edge in her voice was unmistakably dangerous as she took another sip of whisky.

Baker, however, didn't seem to notice. "Which is why you're too valuable to keep in the field for too long. When you leave a mark, you ensure it's deep, like a brand."

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Have I? Left a mark?" she asked, a glimmer of defiance in her wide green eyes as they locked with Lieutenant Baker's dark ones. Her expression shifted, becoming contemplative. "Maybe I have. Or maybe I was just a convenient ally who provided him with exactly what he needed." The corners of her fiery red lips curled into a smirk.

The pair fell silent again as they watched Johannes, his fingers dancing across the strings of the bass guitar with electrifying verve.

A large man approached, "Johannes says you two are the roadies needing a ride to Warsaw?" He asked, narrowing his gaze with skepticism.

Gale, ever attentive, locked eyes with the man. She projected a mixture of magnetism and unearthly pressure. "I told Crowe that I was more than enough for him, but he wanted to make it a threesome." She threw LT Baker a sly look, and for a moment, they shared a private joke, as a smile gently touched the edges of his rugged lips.

Gale questioned the man before her, "And you're to be our driver?"

The man seemed caught off guard, but he tried to steady himself, his intimidating demeanor replaced with mild confusion. "Ah, more like the manager. We hire a driver, because, well, we get plastered." he explained, as he let out a short burst of laughter. "I'll take you to the back of the bus. It's private and two you can... 'catch up' with Johannes as we head to Warsaw. Your instruments are already loaded, he saw to that personally." The manager gave them a curt nod and walked off.

As the manager walked away, Gale and LT Baker moved towards the entrance, the wordless exchange between their eyes conveying different shades of understanding. The tension from earlier, still smoldering beneath the surface, had dissipated—for now. The pair had worked on many missions together, each one requiring a high level of adaptability, accuracy, and a humbling dose of human connection.

Gale and LT Baker were snipers and assassins, doing whatever it took to accomplish their goals. The one constant in their lives was the essence of surprise that accompanies new situations and dangers.

Their muscles tensed as they entered the alley behind the bar, a cool breeze licking at their skin and causing the neon signs of the strip clubs and music venues to cast a lurid glow upon their faces.

The set was now finished, Crowe came out the backstage door and gave Gale a warm embrace. "My sweet, sweet Gale. It's been too long. I've missed you." Johannes whispered, his voice thick with emotion and a lingering accent. Gale smiled warmly, reciprocating the embrace. She was always surprised by how much of him she could find in his performance – the depth and sultriness of his voice, the skillful flow of his words. And yet, every time they met, she was left craving to know even more about him.

"How is the little one?" Gale whispered back, sharing a conversation meant only for two.

"Stella is 20-months and prächtig!' He exclaimed in a hushed tone, hugging Gale harder. "You two will have to meet someday," Crowe paused, lowering his voice even further to the point of being undetectable by human ears, "She has manifested already.”

Gale's emerald eyes widened in shock. She looked Johannes square in the eye, trying to confirm what he just admitted.

Crowe did not blink, "She's a chip off the old block. Perhaps, even stronger." He said cryptically, in a normal volume.

As they stepped back, LT Baker shifted, almost imperceptibly. There was a flash of discomfort in his otherwise collected demeanor. A small frown etched itself onto his chiseled features, a rare treat for those observant enough to catch it. Baker was never easily flustered, more like a predator than the prey. Yet in this moment, strange emotions stirred deep within his soul, a curious mixture of envy, frustration, and a disturbing sense of incompleteness.

Crowe's sharp gaze fastened upon the lieutenant, acknowledging the heat of the undisguised war brewing between them. His mouth opened as if to say something, then thought better of it. "Come. We'll make our way to the private cabin in the back, and I'll give you the details of the rendezvous in Warsaw." Johannes led the way towards the charter bus parked nearby, as the manager looked on with interest.

The charter bus was as eclectic as the crowd that frequented the bar. A multitude of stickers and slogans covered the exterior panels and the wheels screeched as the driver maneuvered it into the night.

Gale followed her old friend up the steps, gripping the cold metal handrails, as the weight of their impending reunion settled on her shoulders.

LT Baker trailed silently behind, the tension between the two men unspoken but palpable. Stepping onto the bus, Gale and LT Baker were greeted by an otherworldly scene, hundreds of candles flickering from every available surface. Even more peculiar was the smell of fresh rain mixed with the comforting scents of rich, earthy soil, fresh herbs, and hot tea. "My apologies. I'm afraid the beatnik roots of my parents have finally borne fruit." Johannes explained, a crooked half-smile settling onto his angular features as he reached for a short paper bag housing the teapot and empty cups.

Gale slid past the lieutenant without a word, taking her seat across from the mysterious spy. "I don't mind. As long as you don't expect us to sing songs of love and oneness around a circle of candles." She shot a coy look at the Lieutenant, reveling in his faced composure even for a moment.

Baker's lips simply twitched, containing his smirk. Under other circumstances, he would find himself captivated by her provoking manner, but right now, he was dead set on discerning what lay between her enigmatic companion.

The charter bus hummed along the unlit autobahn, seamlessly blending within the caravan of semis and delivery trucks enroute to the Polish border. The driver focused on the dark highway, alert to any signs of checkpoints or delays as the trio preferred avoiding any unnecessary interactions with Soviet patrolmen.

"So, this Omar Baymatov, is he trustworthy?" Baker asked bluntly, breaking the silence that he felt lasted far too long.

Crowe let out a sigh, running his fingers through his jet-black hair. A pair of green eyes and a pair of brown peered at him while the bus rocked steadily under the weight of their collective tension.

"If you're talking about his loyalty, that is not up for debate, it's to himself. But as to his trustworthiness, it depends on your point of view," Johannes finally admitted, reluctance evident in his voice. "Omar hails from Uzbek. He worked as a spy and was even stationed in East Berlin for a time. Now, he is a notable figure among the organized crime syndicates in the Soviet Union, such that it is. He owns a trucking company that transports contraband. You'll be riding in one of his trucks. So, no, you shouldn't trust him at all." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Before you ask, no, you shouldn't trust me either. People in our line of work should know better than to trust anyone." Crowe's voice brimmed with the kind of experience that can only be acquired by treading the thin and breakable ice of covert ops and intelligence. His eyes, once so open and engaging, suddenly abounded with shadows of the people he left worn and deflated in his wake.

Gale's expression remained stoic, a mask of practiced nonchalance. Her eyes, however, harbored a dampening of the fiery resolve she had always been known to possess. John simply sighed and peered back out of the window.

They rode the rest of the night in silence.