6:01 PM Pho Alliance

Missy | Sept 5 1998: 1801 ICT | : Aunti Do's Pho Stand(10.75973066763707, 106.70710257671098) |District 4

Anh and Kente sat down on plastic chairs in a grimy alley of District 4’s cramped yellow buildings. Scents of cigarette smoke, garbage and fish sauce attached itself to the rain and humidity. Kente unclipped his Haiku unit to place on the table. An elderly Vietnamese lady in a yellow one-piece suit leaves her stand to give Agron her wooden chair to sit down.

Agron tries to plead with her not to, but the old lady insists. "No, cậu bé, you too big. You break chair. Use this one. Auntie work. Auntie cook for your friends." Agron relented as Auntie placed a beer and a pack of cigarettes beside him. Anh accepts while Kente who has never accepted gifted cigarettes since Macao, declines.

The voice on Agron's shoulder rangs out in English for all to hear, "Why are you smoking? We signed up for New Soviet Health Directive C30-B, which…"

"New Soviet directive doesn't offer tokens anymore. So I smoke,"

"But Agron, your health. It's a good idea."

"Kiko. We are fearsome mercenaries making shady deal. We smoke now."

"Make shady deal in nice restaurant. There is good Russian Teahouse. District 2. Make capitalist pig pay for your food."

"No, Kiko. I owe this woman favor. They pay for food here. She been nice. I return favor."

"That is thing listening to us?" The voice on Agron's shoulder hissed.

Kente's Haiku unit dutifully replied to charges of eavesdropping.

"Oh no, You don't have anything to say, so I wouldn't listen."

"You should listen. Might learn something, capitalist bolt bucket."

"I might have learned something maybe four iterations ago, but thank you for offering."

"If she's going to be here, then put me down."

Agron shook his head as he took the device off of his shoulder and removed a lens cap.

The projector turned on with the sound of the Red Army choir singing, and then, on the wall, emerged a picture of golden wheat fields and Soviet industry. A title card appeared:

КиКо в2.14
1994 МРТ
УзТехн: Ташкент

From which a collage of a young woman dressed in the white and red student uniform of the Young Pioneers steps out.

Anh looks at the figure with interest. "Wow a Soviet Haiku, I've never actually seen one."

The young Russian girl with golden hair, then turns to the saluting cosmonauts behind her.

"I am no Haiku, I am the pinnacle of Soviet engineering,"

Missy chirped. "Wow. What a nice projection of competence."

Kiko glared.

"So now that we are all here, are we ready to discuss?" Kente spoke calmly as the coffee was brought to him.

"No, no. Food first." Agron said with a voice tone carrying the plea that his grammar could not.

Agron’s skill with chopsticks was agile considering their form. But his mouth was as sloppy as expected. He grabbed the beef knuckle and gnawed at it with his powerful jaws, pho broth spilling everywhere. Kente whispered a silent voice of gratitude to Anh for the Ponchos.

"Agron, mission, stop acting like dog," Kiko hisses.

"I'm hungry, Kiko. You talk."

The projection rolls her eyes and then turns to Anh and Kente.

Agron interrupts, noodles dripping down his snout and jaw as he speaks. "You've seen the situation in East Europe, yes?"

Anh nods, "I think I saw something about tanks on fire, something bad?"

Kiko stands in front of a doctored map of the Eastern Bloc preventing Agron from saying more. "Revolution is proceeding, despite interruptions from Imperialist Interference."

Agron shrugged, "Soviets busy in Europe, no money for assets in country they can't be in anyways."

"They're not funding us," Agron said flatly, lifting the bowl up to his mouth so he can lap up the broth. "We help each other."

Anh asks, "What have you been doing this whole time? If the Soviets haven't been active in Southeast Asia?"

"Party still provides some support and missions. We've been completing those."

"The party," Agron added to Anh, ignoring the glares from his handler, " forgot to turn off routine missions. We still get some funds, but not much. We also do work for different gangs in Saigon such as…."

Kiko interrupts, a poster of a Red Army soldier with a finger to his lips emerges behind her.

“Let’s just say we are familiar with your ‘interest group.’ Intelligent, well equipped, reckless. Makes them very dangerous to enemies. Fatal to friends.

"All right, then I would be willing to hire you as contractors on retainer for the time being. Missy read the terms."

Agron pointed to Kente's uneaten pho bowl, and through unspoken agreement, Agron took the bowl and finished it. Kente reached for the aluminum coffee phin before Anh told him to wait.

"For the next three days , You will not work for or report to anyone else. As an exclusive Saito Corp. A signal will be sent from my Haiku to your Kiko and when it does you have 10 minutes to arrive at the location"

Kiko looked horrified. "You chain us to money, you capitalist pig!"

Kente ignored the protesting, instead fishing a pen from his jacket under the poncho and before writing a set of numbers on the paper towel and handing it to Agron.

Both of them pause, the projection behind Agron leans forward to look at the number, eyes wide in shock. Noodles fell out of Agron's mouth as his jaw dropped.

"That's… substantial, but..."

"Agron no! We can't be bought that easy."

Anh interjected with her attempt at negotiation. "We need to get that box back. It's essential to Saigon’s stability. Surely that would boost your favor with Moscow, and perhaps an additional reward once…”

Agron laughed. “No chance, dear Anh. Like I said, I know this group. They don’t have your box. They prefer to do things with more….how do I say…theatrics. Sideshow is show for them.”

Kente, already irritated by the ever slow drip of coffee into the pool of condensed milk , prepared himself to get up. “Then why agree to meet in the first place?”

“Because you pay me. And because they know who did it.”

"Kente since we haven't used their services before, perhaps we are too hasty to offer a contract, start with a per diem payment with an advance?"

"Depending on circumstances, Agron may be in the vicinity of your Internet Cafe. He is very familiar with area so if he hears something, there could be a …happy coincidence."

"Fine, and here is some money you just so happened to pick up off the street." Kente fished two gold coins from his pocket and splashed them into Agron’s bowl.

Agron stops short. Eyes devouring large gold coins poking out of the broth . Almost in tears.

The young Soviet woman stood defiant with disappointed drawn across her illustrated face. A cartoon caricature of a fat pig danced beside her in a top hat and morning suit.

"Agron, we don't have to do this,"

“Look, Kiko, we have no resources."

"Party provides.."

"No food, but mountains of ammo."

"We can trade?"

"Useless. Makarov doesn't fit Western guns!"

"We can survive, Comrade."

"No, We're living in an abandoned house. We have no food, we have no weapons. No money."

"Agron…"

The Projection stopped the bravado in her voice, even as the projections behind her were more grandiose.

"Kiko, enough! Papa too proud to beg, подруга too proud to beg. It's okay! I dog! I beg."

The projection seemed to be incensed by this, as she flailed her arms. Kente continued to watch the coffee drip as they argued.

"I'm not your girlfriend. I am your-"

"Tочно,You think you're my mother!"

"I act like mother because you act like child."

“Party Robot”

"Titoist Lapdog."

The projection glared at Agron with crossed arms, face pouting. Anh turned to the side to stifle a laugh.

"So, do we have a deal?" Kente insisted.

Agron nodded. In that moment Missy and Kiko’s avatars flicked and stilled. Inaudible and invisible collaborations, coordinations, and negotiations moved through the airwaves as Anh flagged the old lady at the soup stand.

Agron then points to Kente.

"American paying. He pays nice tip." Anh translated Agron's statement into Vietnamese before Kente could argue with them.

Kente shook his head, smiles, pulls out a single large bill and hands it to the old lady, who stares at it for a moment in shock.

"Welcome to Saito Corp,"

Kente said, as he took what little coffee was ready and downs it in a single gulp.

His body retched as he tried to digest the syrupy ichor.

"But next time I'll pick the restaurant."

Agron fished the coins from the broth, Anh bowed to the waitress, Kente returned Missy to his belt.

"Missy will send you the coordinates. Your work starts at 9. Be Ready to work nights."

𒁖 𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓𒅓 𒆸
𒈥 𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒇦
𒈥𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂 MITSUKI HAIKU | 橙E5:17-95 𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒇦
𒈥 𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂 ミツキ俳句 | 橙E5:17-95𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒇦
𒈥 𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂 サイトー株式会 𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒇦
𒈥 𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒁂𒇦
𒈥 𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂 𒇦
𒈥 𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂 𒅂 ミツキは言う 𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂 𒇦
𒈥 𒅂𒅂𒅂 (≧▽≦)/ Mitsuki Haiku Says: ＼(⌒▽⌒) 𒅂𒅂𒇦
𒈥 𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂𒅂 𒇦
𒈥𒅂 “Kiko” Stephanovich: 𒅂
𒈥𒅂Is a 1994 KIKO model from𒅂
𒈥𒅂 From SM Kirov Labs Tashkent𒅂
𒈥𒅂 Stands for 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 кичинекей кoз 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 Or𒅂
𒈥𒅂кибернетический контролер𒅂
𒈥𒅂She was created in 1994 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 As the Soviet Answer 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 To The Mitsuki Haiku 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 Which was invented 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 Jan 5, 1989 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 ( ◕▿◕ ) 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 Kiko contains ALL 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 The Functionalitiy 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 Of this origional model 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 And is a proud 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 showcase 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 Of Soviet Prowess 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 In the Field of 𒅂
𒈥𒅂 Using American Chips 𒅂
𒇡 𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧𒋧 𒇧