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Illya Kuryakin had functioned independently as an agent at Cambridge for two years, unencumbered by a handler or anyone else looking over his shoulder for that matter. He was the one doing all the looking this time. After the problem in Paris he was surprised that they let him work this way, but he never questioned it, and gladly accepted the freedom.
As time passed, his encoded reports and files sent like clockwork to his contacts became routine, almost mundane. At least his superiors knew that he did his work in a timely manner, for all it was worth. He had very little excitement in his life and although he was relieved that no one was trying to kill him; this assignment in Great Britain had worn thin on him. He felt as though he had been forgotten. On the bright side, at least his English had improved greatly.
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