[identity profile] avirra.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] section7mfu

As a rule, Napoleon wouldn't describe himself as a supestitious man, but the darkness of a Scottish Highlands night reminded him more of the dark of a cavern rather than the normal night time dark he was accustomed to.  It was the sort of dark that seemed to swallow light rather than welcome it.  If that weren't eerie enough, the occassional flash of an animal's eyes ane the faint nickering sounds of a horse added to the creepiness factor when Illya's mention of the kelpie came back to mind.  All in all, with his surroundings, Napoleon found it very easy to see how many of the lurid tales of the area came to be.  With little around to aleve the darkness, the mind tended to go a bit overboard with imagining what the noises around them might be from.

Their movements had to be slow and steady.  With no other artificial lights around, they would draw attention to themselves if they made use of flashlights.  Illya was leading the way and was lucky enough to find a path that the local wildlife seemed to make frequent use of.  It made their footing far less treacherous although it would have been difficult to say whether it was the red deer or Napoleon who was the most startled when he turned to look behind him and found himself nearly nose to nose with the young stag before it bounded off;  Illya was hard pressed to keep a start face while Napoleon tried to get his breathing back under control.

It seemed far longer, but according to Napoleon's watch, it had taken them just under an hour to reach the edges of the Kilchurn ruins and, as if the area had in mind to set the scene for a horror tale, a thick fog was creeping from the dark waters of the loch and beginning to surround the castle.  As prearranged, Napoleon reached forward and gave a light tug on Illya's gunnysack to let him know to stop.  Once they were close enough to speak in whispers, Napoleon gestured toward the incoming fogbank.  The old term about fog being as thick as pea soup came to mind.

"Think the weather is going to be a problem?"

Illya studied the fog for a moment, then shrugged.

"We will need to be cautious not to lose one another, but it should work to our advantage in avoiding being seen by whomever is inside Kilchurn.  Unless, of course, they are using something to detect thermal changes."

"Leave it to you to think of that cheerful option."

"Better to be prepared for the worst, my friend."

Both men froze then ducked off of the trail and into the surrounding bushes at a nearby sound.  Horses, but not the supernatural kind.  These were fully saddled with riders, the foremost rider leading the way cautiously down the trail that the two agents had vacated just in time.  The following rider was complaining bitterly, his Brooklyn accent making it obvious that he was not a local.

"Out in the middle of nowhere and likely to break our necks in this fog."

The tone of the man on the lead horse indicated that this was far from the first time he'd heard the complaints.

"By all mean, Matthews, feel free to register your disapproval with Lady Olivia when she returns from her meeting with Central.  I can set you up with an appointment."

The retraction was a speedy one.

"No, no - no need to bother Her Ladyship.  I was just blowing off some steam."

A chuckle from the lead horse was the only response as they continued past.  Napoleon and Illya remained in place and silent until they could no longer hear the horses,  Returning to the trail, Napoleon brushed off a few leaves.

"I think that confirms the presense of a bird's nest ahead.  Lady Olivia sounds formidable."

"Many of the female THRUSHes we have met have been."

"True enough, chum.  I wonder how old Her Ladyship is?"

That got a scowl from Illya.

"Mind on the job, Napoleon."

Napoelon simply gave his partner a wink.

"Always.  But there's more than one way to do reconnaissance.

To his credit, Illya managed not to roll his eyes as he started down the trail again.






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Section VII Propaganda and Public Relations

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