![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
mrua7.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfu2015-04-22 10:42 am
"Only a messenger" ~ for Ladies First
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
mfuwss entitled "Hope Springs Eternal"______________________________________
She’d made a solemn pledge to herself, a vow that she would have her pound of flesh for the loss of her David, and for foiling her brilliant plan. The failure had put her in a bad light in the eyes of the THRUSH Council and that was a position in which she did not wish to be by any means.
She wanted a seat on that very Council and had been vying for it for sometime with the likes of Victor Marton. He too had failed in his attempt to wrestle that mind-reading machine from that ambitious shrew Lucia Belmont...well at least he did them both a favor by getting her out of the way.
One less person with aspirations to be part of the Council was just fine by Agnes Dabree.
Her injuries sustained thanks to Solo and his sniveling little Russian friend Kuryakin were all but healed, though she was left with a permanent lameness.
No matter; it was now time.
She walked with the barest of limps into the chic restaurant, L’Etoile on 56th St. between Park and Lexington, scanning the diners as the ate by candlelight.
There in the back corner, barely out of sight she spotted Marton, he was with a woman...beautiful of course, auburn haired.
Agnes sighed...she used to have hair the same color once but men were never attracted to her, not with her thick eye glasses and head for science. No men like Victor, as they preferred women young and pretty, not intelligent for the most part.
Not that it mattered; she never had any romantic aspiration toward him or any other man for that matter. He was nothing more than a rival and one who was about to be removed from her rise to a coveted seat on the Council.
Once Victor Marton was out of the way, then it would be Solo and Kuryakin who’d be next on her list. Perhaps she’d go after Alexander Waverly. It was he, after all, who controlled those agents and ruined it all for her.
Dabree smiled at that thought. “Play your cards right Agnes and you’ll not only be a member of the THRUSH council but perhaps the head of it all.
She hugged herself at that thought as she moved closer to the table, drawing her gun from her carpet bag.
It would be messy, and a shame she’d have to kill the girl as well. Dabree’s escape would be under the cover of a smoke grenade. It lacked finesse, but it would do.
“Hello Victor,” she greeted him, but held the pistol behind her purse. Why be obvious.
“Agnes Dabree?” Marton’s eyes gave away his surprise.”I thought you had died.”
“Those rumors were highly exaggerated,” she raised her chin, showing her disdain.
“I’d ask you to join me but as you can see I have company my dear. So I suggest you vacate the premises, as I’m most certain you don’t have a dinner reservation in a place such as this...as a matter of fact I am shocked they even let you through the door.” Marton’s voice oozed with is own particular brand of cultured arrogance.
“Still the same aren’t you Victor, always looking down at me; you with your haughty, decadent ways.”
“Agnes you will never be in the same class as me. My family is of noble birth. I was raised to be a gentleman and that is why I will not dispose of you on the spot for your insults, you reprehensible creature. You wouldn’t know the meaning of style if it was staring you in the face...then again with those ridiculous glasses of yours, I doubt you could even see it.
Victor drew the silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, dabbing the perspiration that had made its presence known on his forehead. How he hated perspiring, it was so undignified.
“Why how gracious of you Marton, but I won’t be returning the the courtesy.” She revealed the gun in her hand, pointing it directly at the man.”Prepare to die Victor.”
Suddenly Agnes' eyes went wide, magnified by the thickness of her glasses.
The only sound heard was that of a silenced gun being fired, not from the hand of Victor Marton but by his red headed companion.
Dabree remained standing for a second as the sleep dart took effect before she slumped to the floor.
“Thank you my dear, though I’d hoped to avoid a scene.” Victor tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket.
“My pleasure Mr. Marton,” the UNCLE agent smiled, lifting her glass in a nod to her dinner companion. She withdrew a small box-like device from her purse.
“Open Channel F.”
“Kuryakin here.”
“We have a little mess that needs to be cleaned up near the table. Mr. Waverly will be pleased to know Agnes Dabree has been neutralized… an unexpected bonus of this meeting.”
She reached over, pouring her vodka gimlet on top of the woman.
The blond Russian rushed to the scene, playing the part of a concerned Maitre D.
“I’m afraid the woman has been drinking a bit too much,” Victor said.
“Pardonnez moi Monsieur Marton,” Illya said, lifting Agnes from the floor with the help of a waiter.
“Merci Monsieur Kuryakin,” Victor said, not-plussed at the sight of a second UNCLE agent. He dismissing Illya with a wave of his hand. “Now where were me my dear?” Marton turned his attention again to his dinner companion.
“I have a message from your brother.”
“My brother is dead to me.”
“Now is that any way to speak about the only living relative you have left in the world?”
“François is a traitor my dear and not worthy of my consideration.” He noted the pained look in her eyes, “Very well, what is the message?” *
“This is being delivered strictly at Mr. Waverly’s approval by the way.”
“One could only presume.”
“He said to tell you that he’s happy and safe and will bring honor back to the house of Marton one day. He couldn’t do that while he was a member of THRUSH. François implores you to join him in his freedom. Help him make the family name respectable once again.”
Victor sighed deeply before taking a sip of champagne.
“Would that I could, but I am afraid I am in the game too long and too firmly entrenched within the world of THRUSH. And with that I will bid you adieu Miss Dancer. Please extend my regards to Alexander for his consideration in this matter.”
“And what of your brother?”
Marton rose from his chair. “Send him my love. It is still there in spite of my other feelings about what he’s done. In a way, he’s not the traitor Miss Dancer, I am. I betrayed the family name and now I must pay the price. Tell him to live for the both of us and restore the honor of the house of Marton. I know that is something I will never be able to do. Now good evening Miss Dancer.”
Victor made his way through the myriad of diners in the restaurant, finally exiting through the door and disappearing into the night.
Illya returned to the table a few minutes later, having supervised Agnes Dabree being loaded into an UNCLE van to transport her to headquarters.
“Where is Marton?”
“Gone darling. Did you really expect him to stick around?”
“No, I suppose not. Did his brother’s message have any effect upon him?”
“Yes and no.” She answered rather cryptically.
Kuryakin decided not to push for more details. Those would be revealed soon enough when April reported to Mr. Waverly.
“Illya?”
“Yes April?”
“You don’t suppose I could get something to eat darling? I’m starving.”
“I will have something sent over to the table,” he nodded.”The perks of having me as your Maitre D."
"Not bad Kuryakin, considering I was only being a messenger."
"April my friend, you could never be only a messenger."
* ref “Hope Springs Eterna.l”
no subject
Thanks so much for getting right to this and commenting. There will definitely be more of the Martons to come.
no subject
Looking forward to more Martons, when convenient for you.
no subject