"Not so catchy"~ for What's My Line?'
May. 26th, 2016 01:00 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
mrua7.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfu
The prompt: 'Oh what a beautiful morning!'
Napoleon Solo was dangling by his wrists, having been shackled and hung like a side of beef from the ceiling in...where ever this was? It looked like a basement, but he couldn't be sure.
He had no idea how he’d gotten here; the last thing he remembered was walking up the steps at Del Floria’s to the sidewalk where he whistled for a cab. That was it, well of course the sudden pain he felt sharp pain in the back of his head and neck as well.
They still ached, his head was pounding, his wrists were hurting as were his shoulder from bearing the weight of his body while gravity was doing its thing.
He turned his head with a jerk, instantly regretting it but his attention was drawn to music. It was a recording of Gordon Macrae singing a song from the musical Oklahoma?
Napoleon closed his eyes, trying to visualize the opening scenes of the movie. Cornfields, Macrae wearing a brightly colored orange shirt and cowboy hat while riding along on his trusty white horse…
“There’s a bright golden haze on the meadow, and the corn is as high as an elephant’s eye.
There's a bright golden haze on the meadow,
There's a bright golden haze on the meadow,
The corn is as high as an elephant’s eye,
An' it looks like it's climbin’ clear up in the sky.
Oh, what a beautiful mornin',
Oh, what a beautiful day.
I got a beautiful feelin'
Ev'erything's goin' my way.”
Napoleon remembered seeing the movie with a date, a pretty blonde named Shelly and he especially recalled what they did afterwards. It was a time in his life when he was a bit lost; he’d finished his stint in the army and had been considering an offer made to him by a named Alexander Waverly...well, the rest as they say was history.
“Yeah, “Napoleon grumbled.”Everything’s going my way all right.”
The music continued, but instead of another one, the same song repeated again and again ad nauseum.
“Well this is a new type of torture?” He grumbled to himself.
It was time to blow this party, and though it was painful, Solo began to swing his legs until he was able to get them up and over the metal bar from which he was hanging.
He shimmied along it until he reached one of the two walls to which it was anchored. Napoleon used his body weight and bouncing against the bar he was able to loosen and detach it from the wall after a few tries. Luckily the mortar holding it in place had been old and crumbling.
Whoever had done this to him had conveniently left the key to the shackles hanging by the door. That he chalked up to the Solo luck. Napoleon quickly undid them and silently lowered the chains to the floor. Slowly opening the door; he peeked out.
Sitting beside a table was none other that Roscoe Wilkins, a Thrushie with whom Solo had several run ins. Beside him on a table was a phonograph playing the record.
Should he just try to tiptoe past the man or knock him out? Napoleon decided a well place karate chop was in order and raised his hand.
He stopped, something wasn’t right. Roscoe looked...dead?”
Napoleon reached out, carefully touching his fingers to the man’s throat to feel for a pulse. Wilkins was stone cold dead, emphasis on the cold.
Solo shrugged, and made his way up a flight of wooden steps, and out of the building to the street. Getting his bearings; he realized he was in the Bronx, and not exactly a good section.
Luckily after warding off the advances of a few hookers and their pimps Napoleon found a pay phone and he dialed the private number for headquarters.
Illya arrived to rescue him in a matter of minutes as luckily the Russian wasn’t far away; he was involved in searching for his kidnapped partner. Security had witnessed on camera the whole scene of Solo's abduction but by the time they made it out to the street, the agent was gone. Ever since then a search for him was underway
Napoleon hopped into the passenger seat as soon as the car driven by Kuryakin pulled up curbside.
“Are you all right my friend?”Illya asked.
“Actually I’m fine, though Roscoe Wilkins isn’t.”
“You killed him?”
“No. I think he might have died of a heart attack.”
“Well a cleanup crew is on their way so the body will be turned over to the Coroner’s Office. We will find out after an autopsy what happened to him. Not that you really care, I am sure. I must say Napoleon you picked a beautiful day to get yourself kidnapped.”
“Huh? What did you just say.”
“What a beautiful morning, a beautiful day…”
“Illya?”
“Yes?”
“Please be quiet?”
“But I was just commenting on the…”
“Don’t, just don’t.” All Napoleon could hear was that song stuck in his head; what did they call it, an earworm? He wondered how long it would take for it to go away.
“How can you be so touchy my friend?" Illya canted his head to one side." You have been rescued from the clutches of THRUSH, unscathed I might add, and it really is a beautiful day. I have a feeling…”
“Don’t tell me you have a beautiful feeling?” Napoleon interrupted.
“If you keep that up, then perhaps nothing will be going your way,” Illya said.
“Tsk.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2016-05-26 05:29 pm (UTC)Also, Happy Redheads Day! (I'm sure the kitties consider every dy Redheads' Day.)
no subject
Date: 2016-05-26 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-26 06:56 pm (UTC)Yes Happy Redheads day to you if you're a redhead, if not just Happy Day then!
Purrrrrs to you and Samantha!
no subject
Date: 2016-05-26 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-26 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-26 07:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-26 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-29 08:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-29 08:26 am (UTC)Glad you enjoyed the story and thanks for the comment! :D