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section7mfu2015-10-29 07:51 am
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in section7mfu2015-10-29 07:51 am
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The Great Episode Challenge Bonus Round - Man of Mystery
In Season Two's "The Bat Cave Affair," Count Zark is infuriated to realize that Illya Kuryakin is unfamiliar with him. "I have fantasies of UNCLE giving orders: 'Get Zark at any price!' and here you've never even heard of me!"
The challenge is: Write a story that explains why Zark felt he was, or should have been, one of UNCLE's most wanted.
By Lucky_Ladybug
The late October night was dark and cold. Now and then the full moon became visible through the heavy fog that hung over the ground, only to vanish again amidst the wispy cloud cover that almost resembled the ragged shroud of a long-dead corpse. From the docks, foghorns and ships’ bells rang out, adding to the eerie nature of an early-morning October 31st.
Only one lone figure was out and about, their hands in their pockets and their lightweight coat pulled close to their body. They kept their head low, but nevertheless remained alert for trouble. Still, when a strange, caped figure soared off a building overhead and landed behind them almost soundlessly, it was not the type of trouble expected.
“Ah, my friend, you should not be out so late tonight. Don’t you know it is the witching hour on the most bewitching day of the year?”
The assaulted person cried out in shock and tried to grab for the umbrella hooked around one trenchcoat-covered arm, but at the same instant he was grabbed from behind and held tight. As the bizarre creature holding onto him bent down and sank his teeth into the partially exposed neck, the attacked person went stiff in shock.
“What the . . . what do you think you’re doing?!” he cried.
The stranger finally let go of his flesh in order to throw back his head and cackle. “I am the greatest terror this modern age has ever known! I am Count Zark, the present-day Count Dracula! U.N.C.L.E. will cower in the streets before me and order their agents to bring me in at all costs!”
“You think you’re a vampire?!” The man in the coat wrenched himself away. Although he wanted to reach up and see whether this loon had actually broken the skin, right now he was most concerned with making sure the guy didn’t swoop in for another bite. He took a step back, unscrewing the handle of his umbrella. The silver gleam of a dagger caught the moonlight.
“I am the reincarnation of Count Dracula!” Zark retorted. “Only I will be far wiser than he. I will not fall, though U.N.C.L.E. will seek me high and low! I will be U.N.C.L.E.’s arch-nemesis!”
“I think that position is already filled,” a third voice entered the conversation. This man sounded dark, dangerous, and possibly at least slightly deranged. “And you’ve overstepped your bounds, Count Zark. Takin’ a bite out of my chum just ain’t acceptable behavior.”
Completely unconcerned with incurring the newcomer’s wrath, Zark leaped back and spread his arms wide. “He should feel honored to be my first victim! U.N.C.L.E. is your nemesis as well as mine!”
“Yeah, maybe so, but that don’t mean that we’d ever be ‘honored’ to be somebody’s guinea pigs! Say goodbye, Count.” With that the third man fired.
Zark merely cackled and grabbed the edge of his cape with one hand, swirling it out and around himself. “You cannot defeat me, Mr. Wye! I don’t expect we will meet again.” And he vanished behind a stack of crates.
Swearing up a storm, Wye tore forward and around the crates to find him. But there was nothing to find.
“He’s gone,” the first man spoke up in surprise.
Wye whirled, seeing his friend had followed him over. “Ecks, what the devil did he do to you?” he snapped.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Ecks replaced the dagger in the umbrella and reached up, gingerly feeling the bite mark. “Am I bleeding?”
Wye came closer to look. “Nah; he just left a nasty ring of teeth marks on your neck.” He looked back at the crates. “That bloke must’ve fallen off the trolley years ago.”
Ecks sighed. “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about getting a rabies shot,” he said only half-sarcastically. “But Wye?”
“Yeah?” Wye was occupied, inspecting the bite mark further.
“You shot point-blank at him,” Ecks said uneasily. “I know you hit him, but it didn’t faze him at all. And I don’t see any blood on the ground.”
“Well . . .” Wye stared at the pier as he shoved the gun back inside his heavy coat. “There has to be a logical explanation for that. He must’ve grabbed the wound and kept the blood from goin’ everywhere.”
“And with a bullet in him, how did he get away so fast?”
For a long moment the two spies stood on the docks, listening to the sounds of the ships as they tried to process the bizarre experience they had just had and why it had happened.
“There is a logical explanation,” Wye insisted finally. “He must have that mind over matter stuff down pat.”
“Yes,” Ecks said slowly. But he had to wonder: could someone so apparently unhinged even have that much focusing ability?
“You know what,” Wye said, “let’s forget all about it. He doesn’t think we’ll meet again. He’s U.N.C.L.E.’s problem.”
“They can have him,” Ecks growled, starting off down the pier again.
Wye hurried after him. “And pull up your collar,” he directed. “If anybody sees your neck right now, they might get all the wrong ideas in their heads.”
Ecks was already drawing up the collar of his trenchcoat, relieved that it would conceal the marks until they faded, which would hopefully be soon. “Of course they would,” he answered. “After all, they’d never guess what really happened. I’d never believe it myself if I hadn’t experienced it.”
“I saw it and I’m still having trouble believing it!” Wye retorted.
“Touché,” Ecks sighed.
And somewhere, on top of a building, a silhouetted figure stood against the full moon and cackled as he raised his hands to the sky.
The challenge is: Write a story that explains why Zark felt he was, or should have been, one of UNCLE's most wanted.
The late October night was dark and cold. Now and then the full moon became visible through the heavy fog that hung over the ground, only to vanish again amidst the wispy cloud cover that almost resembled the ragged shroud of a long-dead corpse. From the docks, foghorns and ships’ bells rang out, adding to the eerie nature of an early-morning October 31st.
Only one lone figure was out and about, their hands in their pockets and their lightweight coat pulled close to their body. They kept their head low, but nevertheless remained alert for trouble. Still, when a strange, caped figure soared off a building overhead and landed behind them almost soundlessly, it was not the type of trouble expected.
“Ah, my friend, you should not be out so late tonight. Don’t you know it is the witching hour on the most bewitching day of the year?”
The assaulted person cried out in shock and tried to grab for the umbrella hooked around one trenchcoat-covered arm, but at the same instant he was grabbed from behind and held tight. As the bizarre creature holding onto him bent down and sank his teeth into the partially exposed neck, the attacked person went stiff in shock.
“What the . . . what do you think you’re doing?!” he cried.
The stranger finally let go of his flesh in order to throw back his head and cackle. “I am the greatest terror this modern age has ever known! I am Count Zark, the present-day Count Dracula! U.N.C.L.E. will cower in the streets before me and order their agents to bring me in at all costs!”
“You think you’re a vampire?!” The man in the coat wrenched himself away. Although he wanted to reach up and see whether this loon had actually broken the skin, right now he was most concerned with making sure the guy didn’t swoop in for another bite. He took a step back, unscrewing the handle of his umbrella. The silver gleam of a dagger caught the moonlight.
“I am the reincarnation of Count Dracula!” Zark retorted. “Only I will be far wiser than he. I will not fall, though U.N.C.L.E. will seek me high and low! I will be U.N.C.L.E.’s arch-nemesis!”
“I think that position is already filled,” a third voice entered the conversation. This man sounded dark, dangerous, and possibly at least slightly deranged. “And you’ve overstepped your bounds, Count Zark. Takin’ a bite out of my chum just ain’t acceptable behavior.”
Completely unconcerned with incurring the newcomer’s wrath, Zark leaped back and spread his arms wide. “He should feel honored to be my first victim! U.N.C.L.E. is your nemesis as well as mine!”
“Yeah, maybe so, but that don’t mean that we’d ever be ‘honored’ to be somebody’s guinea pigs! Say goodbye, Count.” With that the third man fired.
Zark merely cackled and grabbed the edge of his cape with one hand, swirling it out and around himself. “You cannot defeat me, Mr. Wye! I don’t expect we will meet again.” And he vanished behind a stack of crates.
Swearing up a storm, Wye tore forward and around the crates to find him. But there was nothing to find.
“He’s gone,” the first man spoke up in surprise.
Wye whirled, seeing his friend had followed him over. “Ecks, what the devil did he do to you?” he snapped.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Ecks replaced the dagger in the umbrella and reached up, gingerly feeling the bite mark. “Am I bleeding?”
Wye came closer to look. “Nah; he just left a nasty ring of teeth marks on your neck.” He looked back at the crates. “That bloke must’ve fallen off the trolley years ago.”
Ecks sighed. “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about getting a rabies shot,” he said only half-sarcastically. “But Wye?”
“Yeah?” Wye was occupied, inspecting the bite mark further.
“You shot point-blank at him,” Ecks said uneasily. “I know you hit him, but it didn’t faze him at all. And I don’t see any blood on the ground.”
“Well . . .” Wye stared at the pier as he shoved the gun back inside his heavy coat. “There has to be a logical explanation for that. He must’ve grabbed the wound and kept the blood from goin’ everywhere.”
“And with a bullet in him, how did he get away so fast?”
For a long moment the two spies stood on the docks, listening to the sounds of the ships as they tried to process the bizarre experience they had just had and why it had happened.
“There is a logical explanation,” Wye insisted finally. “He must have that mind over matter stuff down pat.”
“Yes,” Ecks said slowly. But he had to wonder: could someone so apparently unhinged even have that much focusing ability?
“You know what,” Wye said, “let’s forget all about it. He doesn’t think we’ll meet again. He’s U.N.C.L.E.’s problem.”
“They can have him,” Ecks growled, starting off down the pier again.
Wye hurried after him. “And pull up your collar,” he directed. “If anybody sees your neck right now, they might get all the wrong ideas in their heads.”
Ecks was already drawing up the collar of his trenchcoat, relieved that it would conceal the marks until they faded, which would hopefully be soon. “Of course they would,” he answered. “After all, they’d never guess what really happened. I’d never believe it myself if I hadn’t experienced it.”
“I saw it and I’m still having trouble believing it!” Wye retorted.
“Touché,” Ecks sighed.
And somewhere, on top of a building, a silhouetted figure stood against the full moon and cackled as he raised his hands to the sky.