"I would rather deal with T.H.R.U.S.H."~ for PicFic Tuesday 12/22

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

The prompt:




Alexander Waverly stood, silhouetted in front of his office window, facing the team of Solo and Kuryakin.

“Gentleman, I have a rather special protection duty for you today. You are to assist in guarding these individuals for the duration of their stay in New York City. They have some security in place, but more is needed...armed as a matter of fact, as there have been threats made, coming from sources unknown,” as the Old Man spoke, he stepped towards his conference table.

“What about the police? No protection with them?” Solo asked as a folder came round atop the lazy susan table.

“The police will have their hands full with crowd control.” Waverly said.

“And what will be the length of our protection duty?” Kuryakin asked. The fact that there had been threats made against these men seemed immaterial to him, and was merely a matter of course for his and Solo’s line of work.

“They will be here in New York until they leave for Washington D.C. on the 11th, there another team of agents will take over.

“We won’t be required to travel with them?” Solo asked.

“Around town, yes. You will meet them at Penn Station and help escort them to ...one of your favorite places as I recall Mr. Solo, the Plaza hotel.”

Napoleon slid down just a little in his chair at being called out by the boss in a backhanded compliment. It was true, the Plaza was one of his favorite places for assignations with the fairer sex. The fact that the Old Man knew that was a little disconcerting.  Nothing, it seemed, was missed by the sly old fox.

“Their own private security will be with them as they continue out of town on their schedule. As I said, another UNCLE team will pick them up when they arrive at their next stop.”

Kuryakin and his partner gave each other a sly look. This would most likely be an easy assignment...hanging out at the Plaza and simply taking a couple of car rides. Between the two of them and the security already in place, it would be a piece of cake, or so one would think.

Waverly handed them the dossiers of the men they would be baby sitting and dismissed his agents with a wave of his hand.  The old man picked up another file, studying it while blowing smoke rings into the air.

Napoleon and Illya stepped out into the grey corridor with the Russian, as usual, immediately burying his nose in the folder as the they walked along side by side.

“Familiar enough with them tovarisch?” Napoleon. “They’re not exactly part of my area of interest.” One of the secretaries caught his attention for a moment, smiling at him and blowing a kiss.

“Will you keep your mind on the assignment,” Illya snorted his derision as his tinted glasses slipped down on his nose. “That is because you need to open your mind and tastes to things that are differ from yours.”

“Oh and this coming from a man who won’t even tell his best friend about his home and family.”

Illya stopped dead in his tracks. “What does that have to do with our assignment? I have told you the truth, but the fact that you choose to believe otherwise is your problem not mine.”

“Illya you claim to be a Russian count. I don’t believe it as you just don’t act as though that’s your background.”

“That is not correct. I told you my father was the son of a count and by rights of succession, I should be one as well but since the aristocratic bourgeoisie no longer exist in my home...the title is superfluous. As to me behaving as if it were my background, you forget I was raised in an orphanage where they do not exactly instruct one in elegant behavior.”

“So you’re not lying then, you are a Count?”

“Napoleon, choose to believe what you want. Now to concentrate on the task at hand, we need to head to Penn Station to meet our charges. Unless you want to be late, I suggest we get moving.”

With traffic the drive took about twenty minutes but the agents managed to arrive with time to spare, however the place was already swarming with people, and police.

“Apparently there were plenty of others with the same idea.” Napoleon said as he flashed his ID to a policeman. That gained them instant entry to the train, and once inside, they met with security and a plan was formulated.

The sheer numbers of people waiting outside would in essence give them cover and in the confusion if everyone were disguised in trench coats and hats, it would make them all basically look the same.  Other than having the platform cleared of pedestrians, which was physically impossible, this seemed like the only feasible plan. Once through the station they would make their way outside to waiting cars and from there, head to the hotel.

It took a few minutes to get everyone ready, and with the coats and hats it was difficult to distinguish who was who.

Napoleon led the way, followed by two of their charges and a pair of security guards. Illya led the second group with the same number along with two more guards and policemen bringing up the rear.

As they stepped from the train, they were met with additional police who parted the crowds like Moses and the Red Sea.

The crowds of onlookers pushed in and were pushed back, making them look like an undulating sea of bodies.

“There it’s him!” Someone screamed, pointing at Kuryakin.  Illya was suddenly grabbed by dozens of hands, pulling and clawing at him. The hat went first, then his coat was pulled away, and his jacket ripped. The next thing torn to shreds was his shirt as he struggled to be free.

There was a communal moan when it was realized Illya was not one of the men they were looking for. The crowd pushed and pulled at the others, realizing none them, not Solo or those who followed were the men the were anxiously looking for either.

Illya muscled his way through the crowd, catching up to his partner who somehow managed not to be nearly torn to shreds as had been the Russian. The onlookers were everywhere, practically hanging from the rafters so to speak.

In reality, those who the onlookers sought had already exited the from other side of the train, traveled along the wall and escaped through an emergency door with assistance from Transit Police.

They were taken to decoy cars, yet managed to still be surrounded by a sea of humanity, shouting their names and pounding against the car windows in protest.

Once at the Plaza, Napoleon and Illya finally got to relax. A replacement suit was sent in for the Russian who seemed livid at what had happened to him. This was the strangest protection duty he’d ever encountered.

They sat in the livingroom of the private suite filled with flowers and fruit baskets while the four young men they’d been protecting thought it was all a real ‘gas.’

“That was a groovy plan you came up with,” the youngest of the four said. “Maybe we should hire you to be our permanent body guards.”

“No thank you,”Illya said.”I much prefer being shot at and blown up by evil doers than being man handled by a screaming swarm of prepubescent girls.”

“Aw mate I think it’s amazing,” another said; he was the one for whom all the girls were going gah-gah, but then again they were swooning for all four of them.

“Nearly being stripped in public and torn to shreds was not what I call amazing,” Illya swallowed a shot of vodka given to him.

“Well ready yourself again tovarisch, “ Napoleon said. “Our charges have a press conference downstairs in ten minutes. So do you want me to ‘hold your hand’ tovarisch?”

Kuryakin rolled his eyes, regretting he gave his partner the folder on these fellows. There would no doubt be more pernicious puns to be uttered by Napoleon Solo for the duration of this assignment.

Comments

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

Ha, ha, great story, mistaken for one of the 'Fab Four'!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Well back in the 60's David was called the 'fifth Beatle' after all! Thanks for reading and commenting and a Happy Christmas to you and yours! Come visit Section VII more often...we miss you!

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

A Happy Christmas to you too.

Hoping to be able to find some time to pop in more next year. :)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

That would be fantastic. I really miss your stories and photo manips!

Hope you have a great New Year!

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thanks for a nice fic. Good work on both Waverly and Napoleon - pernicious puns! I do like the image of the Beatles in trench coats and hats. Indeed, it must have been an interesting crowd.

I did think the girls went ga-ga over all of them. But then, I don't think they'd be that disappointed to get Illya.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Yes the crowds of nearly uncontrollable girls did love them all didn't they...though some really swooned over Paul. Sadly for this story Illya was girl-handled and tossed away, but in real life David McCallum did get ripped to shreds by his fans.

He even lost some locks of hair and clothing once at a department store where he was supposed to make an appearance. The police had to whisk him away in a squad car out a side entrance. I think he was pretty upset by those adoring fans who roughed him up... it got a little dangerous for him.

His adoring fans trashed the store when they were deprived of his appearance.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I love it. Poor Illya, it must be a nightmare to be in that situation.

Mine is going to be late (again). I don't know what possessed me to write a two-parter in the run up to Christmas.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! All I could envision with the prompt was fans attacking him. No angst for once!

As long as you post yours, that's all that matters. You go where your muse takes you cuz!

[ssclassof56.livejournal.com]

Very cute. Didn't expect the Fab Four. Made me smile.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Yay! Good! I was hoping I hadn't given that tidbit away until the end. Thank you and glad it made you smile.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I might get out a Beatles movie to watch tonight :) Fab Four, Fab Illya... fab story.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Fab review too. Thank you! Yeah Yeah Yeah...Yeah!