Moscow, Russia. January 3rd, 1956.
It was a cold Russian night, but the warmth of our bodies could have fed a thousand suns, as we barely crammed our two bodies into a single sleeping bag, staring up at the twinkling Moscow sky. The KGB, searching beneath us, we sat atop an empty business building. We were star-crossed lovers, fearing for our life from both sides. The most important thing to us was to stay safe tonight. After that, we can get out of Russia. If not, all three of us are headed to a Gulag. I wrapped my hand around her belly as the near unthinkable crossed my mind. Feeling both the faint heartbeat of my lover and the kick of my child, I was terrified one minute, at peace the next. A tip for you spies out there; love and fatherhood are the two leading downfalls of patriotism, honor, and duty.
Langley, Virginia. September 12th, 1944.
The older gentleman scanned through the sheets of papers as I stood at attention before his desk.
"Master Chief Joseph Jager.... Jager? That's 'hunter' in German, isn't it? Tell me, Joseph, are you a hunter?" Man asked with a confident look on his face and a cigarette in his mouth. His uniform was that of an Admiral, standing behind him was a Fleet Admiral; two of the highest ranks within the naval service.
"If that is what is required of me, I most certainly am, sir. I want to serve my country. If that means stalking, I will stalk. If it means hunting, I will hunt. If it means killing, I will kill." I replied.
"Blunt," He smirked. "I like that." He turns to his compatriot, "I like him" he turns his head back to me, "Now, your skills profile says you speak four languages. Is that correct?" He asked.
"Yes, sir. That is correct, English, German, Russian, and French," I replied.
"Good, very good. It also mentions that you were experienced in fighting, at least in boxing, before reporting for SEAL training. Have you kept up your skills and ring work, and have you ever coached or trained others?
"Yes sir, and no sir," I started. "I can still handle myself well when I find a capable sparring partner, but I have never trained others. I know enough about the basic skills and techniques that I could help others develop, if needed"
"I like your enthusiasm, Seaman. Lt. Lynch here will brief you on your mission." He put a hand on my shoulder "Make us proud, boy. You will do well, I can tell." He said, and then walked from the conference room.
I was told that I would be going into Berlin. My cover was cool. As the owner of Hans' Boxing Gym, I was a part of a covert Navy operation focusing on the, hopefully soon, aftermath of WWII. My objective was to gather intelligence and keep an ear to the ground. It would be dangerous, considering my own country would be bombing my location until the end. After the first year, Germany surrendered, then the atomic bombs hit Japan. Unfortunately, soon after that, the Iron curtain was formed, separating the Soviet-occupied sector from the rest of the Germany. It just so happened that my gym was now located in East Germany, so I knew I wasn't going anywhere soon.
East Berlin, Germany. September 4th, 1948
The things I do for my country. There were four semi-routine years in the Soviet sector, working, sleeping, and blending into the struggling society, as were many small businesses. My gym was not in good condition, an attribute that it shared with adjacent houses and stores.
It was business as usual for a while. Then I started seeing more soldiers sitting outside of the gym. There were also GRU agents following me home. All of them were tall and build like freaks of nature. They weren't hard to spot. Despite this, I went along with business as usual, not wanting to draw any more attention. One day as I was sparring with a client, a stunning redhead walked in. The way her eyes darted all around the room; finding exits, cover points, and human shields, I knew she trained, my best guess was GRU from the recent activity. I took off my padded helmet and spoke out.
"Can I help you?" I asked in Russian.
