Intruder - Non-challenge Story - Aug 21st
Aug. 21st, 2016 10:26 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
jantojones.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfuI'm trying to get back to writing, having been unable to do any for a while. This was inspired by one of the beautiful pictures ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
glennagirl posted yesterday. It is far from perfect, but I hope you enjoy it.
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The intruder stood over sleeping the man and quietly watched his chest rise and fall. Despite being in a deep slumber, the blond was barely making a sound. His face was almost angelic, which completely belied the dangerous agent he was known to be. The trespasser pondered about how easy it would be to kill the man as he slept, but that wasn’t why he was there. Illya Kuryakin was to be taken alive.
Holding out his gun, Adam Shepard spoke.
“Wake up!”
Illya’s eyes snapped open and he immediately reached for his weapon, which he kept beneath the pillow.
“Don’t even think about it,” Shepherd warned him.
Sitting up, Illya tried to make out the face of the man, but it was moonless night, and the lights of the city weren’t enough for him to see clearly.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “And how did you get in here?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter,” Shepherd replied “Getting past your security system wasn’t easy, but that is why THRUSH hired me. Amongst my many talents, I’m an expert at security systems.”
“I take it I am to be presented to your employers,” Illya stated as he slowly stood up. “Do you think I could dress first?”
“Don’t move,” his captor told him, as he edged towards the wardrobe.
Without taking his eyes, or his gun, from Illya, he reached inside and grabbed a handful of clothes. He threw them on the bed and ordered Illya to get dressed quickly. Kuryakin almost smiled when he saw one of the two shirts on offer. Keeping his face impassive, he put the shirt on. As he fastened the buttons on his cuffs, he surreptitiously activated the distress/homing beacon embedded within it. Not that he was going to simply wait for a rescue. He wasn’t going let his would-be abductor take him without a fight.
“My shoes are in the other room,” Illya told shepherd, after putting his trousers on.
Shepherd gestured for his captive to go into the sitting room. Making sure to keep his hands in view, Illya allowed his captor to see where the shoes were before reaching down. Without any warning, Illya flung one of the shoes directly at Shepherd’s gun hand. The weapon flew from the man’s grip, and his momentary confusion gave Illya the time he needed to dive forward and tackle him.
The two men grappled, each trying to gain the upper hand. Throughout the ten minute fight, fists flew, feet kicked, and hair was pulled. They crashed around the room, knocking a picture from the wall, and breaking the coffee table as they fell onto it. Both men were exhausted from the protracted battle. Shepherd, being the bigger man, still easily managed to roll Illya onto his back, and began to rain blows onto his face. With his knees pinning the Russian’s arms down, he could land his punches without obstruction.
All Illya could do was move his head in attempt to avoid the fists, and attempt to kick his attacker in the back. His efforts failed, and he began to slip into unconsciousness. Just before his grip on wakefulness left him, Illya heard his door crash open, and the unmistakable sound of a special firing a sleep dart.
………………………………………………………………………………
When he woke, Illya was dismayed to find himself in medical, once again. The reason for his being there rushed back into his memory.
“Who was he?” he asked Napoleon, who was sitting the customary vigil.
“Adam Shepherd,” Solo told him. “He’s a freelance safecracker, burglar, and abductor, currently in the employ of our favourite birdies. We’ve got him in interrogation, but I doubt we’ll get anything useful from him. How are you feeling?”
“Insecure,” Illya replied. “He managed to break into my apartment without setting off the alarm. How did you get to me so quickly?”
“Shepherd managed to bypass most of the system, but obviously didn’t know about the timer failsafe you had built in. So when he didn’t wait the ten seconds between unlocking the door and opening it, the alarm sounded at HQ.”
Illya smiled with grim satisfaction.
“At least I know that it works. Perhaps we should incorporate it in the security arrangements for all agents’ apartments.”
“Not a bad idea, Tovarisch,” Solo agreed. “In the mean-time, you can bed down at mine until yours is re-secured.”
“Thank you, my friend,” the Russian replied with a grin.
Illya enjoyed his stays with Napoleon. The American’s kitchen was stocked with finer foods than his.
.
glennagirl posted yesterday. It is far from perfect, but I hope you enjoy it.***********************************************************************
The intruder stood over sleeping the man and quietly watched his chest rise and fall. Despite being in a deep slumber, the blond was barely making a sound. His face was almost angelic, which completely belied the dangerous agent he was known to be. The trespasser pondered about how easy it would be to kill the man as he slept, but that wasn’t why he was there. Illya Kuryakin was to be taken alive.
Holding out his gun, Adam Shepard spoke.
“Wake up!”
Illya’s eyes snapped open and he immediately reached for his weapon, which he kept beneath the pillow.
“Don’t even think about it,” Shepherd warned him.
Sitting up, Illya tried to make out the face of the man, but it was moonless night, and the lights of the city weren’t enough for him to see clearly.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “And how did you get in here?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter,” Shepherd replied “Getting past your security system wasn’t easy, but that is why THRUSH hired me. Amongst my many talents, I’m an expert at security systems.”
“I take it I am to be presented to your employers,” Illya stated as he slowly stood up. “Do you think I could dress first?”
“Don’t move,” his captor told him, as he edged towards the wardrobe.
Without taking his eyes, or his gun, from Illya, he reached inside and grabbed a handful of clothes. He threw them on the bed and ordered Illya to get dressed quickly. Kuryakin almost smiled when he saw one of the two shirts on offer. Keeping his face impassive, he put the shirt on. As he fastened the buttons on his cuffs, he surreptitiously activated the distress/homing beacon embedded within it. Not that he was going to simply wait for a rescue. He wasn’t going let his would-be abductor take him without a fight.
“My shoes are in the other room,” Illya told shepherd, after putting his trousers on.
Shepherd gestured for his captive to go into the sitting room. Making sure to keep his hands in view, Illya allowed his captor to see where the shoes were before reaching down. Without any warning, Illya flung one of the shoes directly at Shepherd’s gun hand. The weapon flew from the man’s grip, and his momentary confusion gave Illya the time he needed to dive forward and tackle him.
The two men grappled, each trying to gain the upper hand. Throughout the ten minute fight, fists flew, feet kicked, and hair was pulled. They crashed around the room, knocking a picture from the wall, and breaking the coffee table as they fell onto it. Both men were exhausted from the protracted battle. Shepherd, being the bigger man, still easily managed to roll Illya onto his back, and began to rain blows onto his face. With his knees pinning the Russian’s arms down, he could land his punches without obstruction.
All Illya could do was move his head in attempt to avoid the fists, and attempt to kick his attacker in the back. His efforts failed, and he began to slip into unconsciousness. Just before his grip on wakefulness left him, Illya heard his door crash open, and the unmistakable sound of a special firing a sleep dart.
………………………………………………………………………………
When he woke, Illya was dismayed to find himself in medical, once again. The reason for his being there rushed back into his memory.
“Who was he?” he asked Napoleon, who was sitting the customary vigil.
“Adam Shepherd,” Solo told him. “He’s a freelance safecracker, burglar, and abductor, currently in the employ of our favourite birdies. We’ve got him in interrogation, but I doubt we’ll get anything useful from him. How are you feeling?”
“Insecure,” Illya replied. “He managed to break into my apartment without setting off the alarm. How did you get to me so quickly?”
“Shepherd managed to bypass most of the system, but obviously didn’t know about the timer failsafe you had built in. So when he didn’t wait the ten seconds between unlocking the door and opening it, the alarm sounded at HQ.”
Illya smiled with grim satisfaction.
“At least I know that it works. Perhaps we should incorporate it in the security arrangements for all agents’ apartments.”
“Not a bad idea, Tovarisch,” Solo agreed. “In the mean-time, you can bed down at mine until yours is re-secured.”
“Thank you, my friend,” the Russian replied with a grin.
Illya enjoyed his stays with Napoleon. The American’s kitchen was stocked with finer foods than his.
.
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