Blue Blood - Pic Fic Tuesday - Feb 28th
Feb. 28th, 2017 11:41 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuThis is quite rough because I haven't had chance to write today, and it's already 11:40pm. Hopefully you'll still enjoy it.
.....................................................
As he staggered along the early morning streets of New York City, Illya desperately tried to cling on to the information he had in his head. He knew it was important, but he was beginning to forget why. He could vaguely recall it had something to do with a new threat, and he knew he had to get it to HQ at all costs.
Illya had been sent undercover to discover if Thrush had formulated an antidote for a particularly nasty nerve agent they had developed. Two Section 2 agents were already laid in medical suffering from the effects of whatever it was Thrush had given them. They had started out feeling quite dizzy, before they slowly began to lose control of their muscles. They also lost the ability to think or articulate, but managed to convey that they were in considerable pain. U.N.C.L.E.’s medics were at a loss as to how to treat them.
It had taken Illya less than a day to learn what they need to cure the two men. Unfortunately, before he could open a channel to relay the information, he was taken captive and his communicator broken in half. He managed to escape relatively quickly, but not before he was injected with the nerve agent.
Knowing he didn’t have much time, Illya sped away from the Thrush compound and, once he could be sure he wasn’t being followed, he began to search for a telephone. Parking the car, he staggered his way along street. Finally, Illya found what he was searching for.
Every agent knew the direct telephone number which would bypass security lines. While fighting a wave of dizziness, it took Illya a few seconds to bring the number to mind. Once he got through he requested to be put through to Napoleon. By the time his partner answered, Illya was on his knees, barely able to keep hold of the receiver.
“Where are you, Illya?” Napoleon asked. “Did you get what you went for?”
“Y. . . yes,” Kuryakin stuttered. “It is . . . erm . . . I can’t remember.”
“Tovarisch? What’s wrong?”
Napoleon instructed the nearest person to him to trace the call, and send a medic as soon as they had Illya’s location.
“B . . . b . . . blue blood,” Illya gasped, as he fell fully to the ground.
………………………………………………………………………………..
He awoke in the familiar surroundings of the medical suite and found his dozing in his customary chair, with his feet up on the bed.
“Napoleon?” he called, pushing the man’s legs down.
Solo jerked awake before breaking in to a grin.
“Hey there,” he greeted. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired, but quite well,” Illya told him. “I take it I got the information back here.”
“More or less,” Napoleon replied. “You telephoned and left us the words ‘blue blood’. We spent quite a long time trying to work out what royalty had to do with nerve-agents.”
“Royalty?” Illya queried. “I meant . . .”
“The Horseshoe Crab,” Napoleon finished. “Someone made an off-hand comment that they had blue blood. Once it was apparent that this was what you meant, an antidote was very quickly manufactured.”
“How are McKenzie and Mortimer?”
“Completely recovered, thanks to you. Just one thing though, Illya.”
“Yes.”
“I know you love a cryptic word puzzle, but could you choose a more appropriate moment next time?”
Illya refused to rise to the bait, settling instead for his patented icy glare. Immune to the tactic, Napoleon merely laughed.
.
.....................................................
As he staggered along the early morning streets of New York City, Illya desperately tried to cling on to the information he had in his head. He knew it was important, but he was beginning to forget why. He could vaguely recall it had something to do with a new threat, and he knew he had to get it to HQ at all costs.
Illya had been sent undercover to discover if Thrush had formulated an antidote for a particularly nasty nerve agent they had developed. Two Section 2 agents were already laid in medical suffering from the effects of whatever it was Thrush had given them. They had started out feeling quite dizzy, before they slowly began to lose control of their muscles. They also lost the ability to think or articulate, but managed to convey that they were in considerable pain. U.N.C.L.E.’s medics were at a loss as to how to treat them.
It had taken Illya less than a day to learn what they need to cure the two men. Unfortunately, before he could open a channel to relay the information, he was taken captive and his communicator broken in half. He managed to escape relatively quickly, but not before he was injected with the nerve agent.
Knowing he didn’t have much time, Illya sped away from the Thrush compound and, once he could be sure he wasn’t being followed, he began to search for a telephone. Parking the car, he staggered his way along street. Finally, Illya found what he was searching for.
Every agent knew the direct telephone number which would bypass security lines. While fighting a wave of dizziness, it took Illya a few seconds to bring the number to mind. Once he got through he requested to be put through to Napoleon. By the time his partner answered, Illya was on his knees, barely able to keep hold of the receiver.
“Where are you, Illya?” Napoleon asked. “Did you get what you went for?”
“Y. . . yes,” Kuryakin stuttered. “It is . . . erm . . . I can’t remember.”
“Tovarisch? What’s wrong?”
Napoleon instructed the nearest person to him to trace the call, and send a medic as soon as they had Illya’s location.
“B . . . b . . . blue blood,” Illya gasped, as he fell fully to the ground.
………………………………………………………………………………..
He awoke in the familiar surroundings of the medical suite and found his dozing in his customary chair, with his feet up on the bed.
“Napoleon?” he called, pushing the man’s legs down.
Solo jerked awake before breaking in to a grin.
“Hey there,” he greeted. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired, but quite well,” Illya told him. “I take it I got the information back here.”
“More or less,” Napoleon replied. “You telephoned and left us the words ‘blue blood’. We spent quite a long time trying to work out what royalty had to do with nerve-agents.”
“Royalty?” Illya queried. “I meant . . .”
“The Horseshoe Crab,” Napoleon finished. “Someone made an off-hand comment that they had blue blood. Once it was apparent that this was what you meant, an antidote was very quickly manufactured.”
“How are McKenzie and Mortimer?”
“Completely recovered, thanks to you. Just one thing though, Illya.”
“Yes.”
“I know you love a cryptic word puzzle, but could you choose a more appropriate moment next time?”
Illya refused to rise to the bait, settling instead for his patented icy glare. Immune to the tactic, Napoleon merely laughed.
.
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no subject
Date: 2017-03-01 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-03-01 06:54 pm (UTC)If it hadn't been so late I would have polished t a bit, but I have to admit it tuned out ok, considering.