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section7mfu2012-10-23 08:10 am
The Tale That Wouldn't End - PicFic Tuesday
~~~~~:
Inside the plush apartment in which Mac Neally kept himself (and an impressive, if not odd assortment of treasures), the bountiful Betty was gasping for air behind the feathered mask she wore. Neally, in a manner most common to the breed of men within THRUSH, had a strange penchant for things such as the mask worn by the blonde, and had allowed himself to become immediately enamored of the beautiful woman. In his haste to conquer her and the feathers that adorned the mask, his heart had become stressed beyond repair. The middle-aged lothario had launched himself towards Betty, causing her to run in earnest towards the window that she then opened, looking for some means of escape.
Upon turning back towards the ailing Mac Neally, Betty angled her body towards the wall, leaving an opening at the window through which the spurned lover now spilled like clotted cream, past the window sash and down to the pavement below. It was a stroke of good fortune and typical Kuryakin astuteness that saved both him and Napoleon from being at the bottom of the unfortunate scene that was the splattered remains of Mac Neally.
Above, looking out of the window she had opened, Betty saw the end of her evening and all hope of monetary gain from the newly deceased, would be benefactor. Illya happened to glance up and catch a look of resignation from the woman he had hoped would gain for them valuable information. This had been, after all, their last hope of unraveling the mystery of Henry Jones.
“Well, I don’t suppose you have anything else planned for us tonight, tovarisch.”
Illya shook his head.
“Not a thing. As far as I know, this is the end of this rabbit’s trail of clues and strange characters. Henry Jones is dead, as is Clara and now Mac Neally. That makes the entire conspiracy as far as we know.”
Napoleon scowled at the lack of closure on this affair. Now only had they failed to find the real plot, but now they had lost every member of THRUSH who’s participation had fueled the plan.
“What are you going to do with … what’s her name? Betty? You really can’t just leave her up there, she might be in danger.”
Illya groaned, his eyebrows arching into a puppy dog expression that worked on the secretaries at headquarters but had little effect on his partner.
“No way, you need to go up there and deal with miss buxom. She has the mask anyway, and you might as well retrieve the bug you planted.”
Illya slumped noticeably and headed back inside. The ambulance had arrived along with police and the usual gawkers. Neally’s body was covered and placed on a gurney for transport to the morgue. Napoleon searched the faces, wondering if any of the local THRUSH were in attendance. Nope, he didn’t recognize anyone. What a mess.
Illya was approaching the door to Neally’s penthouse suite when he heard a gunshot. Pulling out his own weapon, Illya checked the door and, finding it locked, kicked it in with one forceful move.
As the splintered door landed with a ‘thud!’, Illya was greeted by a loaded gun pointing at his heart.
the conclusion is here
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Very good chapter, and I'm amazed that you've been able to weave each picfic into the story. Great job with that.
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