PicFic Tuesday, 9/4/12

[avirra.livejournal.com]

Embracing Philosophy

The scene should have been one of peace. Tranquility. Napoleon was at the edge of a well-maintained and, to his admittedly unschooled eye, well done zen garden. His back to a Japanese red pine that had been cleared of all branches lower than eight feet off the ground, he had an unimpeded view of his partner directly across the way at the opposite edge of the garden.

Illya was stretched between two cherry trees with ropes bound to his wrists, then pulled to and tied off on the tree to that corresponding side. All Illya had remaining on were his pants - his jacket, shirt, socks and shoes had all been stripped away. He was not tensing and testing the ropes. In fact, Illya didn't even seem to be fully aware of his condition.

The man, known to him only as Hodaka, moved behind Illya grasping a handful of the blond hair and forcing Illya's head forward until his chin pressed against his chest. He held the Russian that way for several long moments before releasing the hold. It bothered Napoleon greatly that Illya hadn't fought against it at all and he wondered if his partner was still suffering under the effects of the gas that had led to them being - well, wherever they were and in the predicament they were in.

Walking around the outskirts of the garden, Hodaka double checked the bindings that drew Napoleon's own arms back along either side of the pine tree that he had been backed against.

"Nothing Mister Kuryakin says will make a difference to the amount of punishment he will take. On the other hand, Mister Solo? You will be able to stop it with a single word.  Just yell stop."

Napoleon wished at that very moment that the phrase 'if looks could kill' had real meaning. He glowered at their captor who just smiled in a maddening fashion as he made sure the thick cloth over Napoleon's mouth was still tight. He doubted he could even make a sound loud enough to make it across the garden, let alone get a sensible word out.

"There is a saying, Mister Solo. Do not speak unless it improves on silence."

Picking up a knotted rope that had been coiled at Napoleon's feet, Hodaka ran his fingers along the thin, coarse hemp with a smile that sent a cold shiver down Napoleon's spine as his gaze returned to his still unresponsive partner.

Hodaka made his way back around the edge of the garden, holding the rope almost lovingly in his left hand for a few moments as he reached out his right hand and traced along Illya's spine possessively as he spoke loudly enough for Napoleon to hear.

"They say pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. Let us see if your friend can embrace that philosophy, shall we?"

The rope was snapped across Illya's bare flesh and the arched back was the first sign that, if nothing else, Illya could feel what was happening. Wincing as the second blow struck, Napoleon pulled harder at his own bindings, but managed to do little more than make the ropes break his skin.  He could feel the trickling dampness, but couldn't be sure if it was sweat or blood.

After the fifth lash, Illya's head suddenly jerked up and he spoke. Napoleon's first thought was to wonder if the combination of the drugs and pain had made his partner mad. He couldn't think of any other reason for Illya popping out an odd question in the middle of torture.  Illya's voice was strained, but clear.

"Have you ever read the writings of Tsunetomo?"

To Napoleon's surprise, Hodaka stopped his arm before the sixth blow fell and frowned deeply. Letting the now bloody rope drop from his hand to the ground, Hodaka moved around until he was in front of the blond, staring deeply into the eyes that were as blue as any demon from the myths he had heard as a child.

"What do you know about Tsunetomo?"

When Illya remained mute, Hodaka drew out a short blade, pressing it against the Russian's chest just hard enough to draw blood and then drew the sharp edge along the length of one rib before driving the blade into the cherry tree to Illya's right. Drawing the twin to the first blade, he approached Illya again.

"I do not like to repeat myself. What do you know about Tsunetomo?"

Illya seemed to be totally ignoring both the blood trailing down toward his waistband and the threat of the second blade.

"You didn't answer my question, but since you know the name, then I assume you have read the Hagakure. Notice the rather large rock to itself that lies between myself and Napoleon?"

Turning toward Napoleon, Hodaka narrowed his eyes as he studied the rock with its patches of whites and mossy greens, taking a step closer to it as if that would provide an answer.

Napoleon's only warning was seeing Illya's hands grasping the ropes leading from his wrists to the trees. In a quick move, Illya made use of the tight ropes to brace himself, whipping his legs up to wrap around Hodaka, jerking him backwards.

Not being ready for an attack from behind, Hodaka lost his balance and fell onto his back. Illya didn't allow the man any recovery time, stomping down on Hodaka's throat with the heel of his foot as hard as he could. The struggle underneath him was brief as Illya shifted to put as much of his full body weight as he could onto that heel, not removing it from Hodaka's throat until he was quite sure that the man would never rise again.

The ropes at his wrists had apparently been fairly new as they had stretched a little bit from Illya throwing his full weight on them. Not a lot of give, but enough for him to start working his way free. Escape came quicker once he was able to work the one rope against the blade embedded into the right hand tree. Once his right hand was free, it was only a matter of minutes before he was removing the second blade from the dead man and heading over to free Napoleon, striding through and disrupting the patterns of the carefully raked sand and pebbles as if they were nothing.

For his part, Napoleon was happiest to have the stifling cloth removed from across his mouth. He took a deep breath, then gave Illya a look that combined gratitude and relief.

"Thanks, chum. What was all that about the Hagakure?"

"It was a somewhat controversial view of the Bushido."

"The Way of the Warrior? I've heard of that. What about it?"

"You recall he was quoting Zen philosophy to us? Part of the Hagakure says 'As everything in this world is but a sham, Death is the only sincerity.' Since he was trying to force me to embrace his philosophy, it seemed only fair to force him to sincerely embrace mine."

"Well, he does look sincerely dead."

"That he does, my friend. Shall we be on our way?"

"Definitely. We need to get your back seen to as well. By the way, Illya? Was there actually something that you saw in that one rock?"

"Yes, Napoleon. A red herring."

PicFic Tuesday, 9/4/12

[avirra.livejournal.com]

Embracing Philosophy

The scene should have been one of peace. Tranquility. Napoleon was at the edge of a well-maintained and, to his admittedly unschooled eye, well done zen garden. His back to a Japanese red pine that had been cleared of all branches lower than eight feet off the ground, he had an unimpeded view of his partner directly across the way at the opposite edge of the garden.

Illya was stretched between two cherry trees with ropes bound to his wrists, then pulled to and tied off on the tree to that corresponding side. All Illya had remaining on were his pants - his jacket, shirt, socks and shoes had all been stripped away. He was not tensing and testing the ropes. In fact, Illya didn't even seem to be fully aware of his condition.

The man, known to him only as Hodaka, moved behind Illya grasping a handful of the blond hair and forcing Illya's head forward until his chin pressed against his chest. He held the Russian that way for several long moments before releasing the hold. It bothered Napoleon greatly that Illya hadn't fought against it at all and he wondered if his partner was still suffering under the effects of the gas that had led to them being - well, wherever they were and in the predicament they were in.

Walking around the outskirts of the garden, Hodaka double checked the bindings that drew Napoleon's own arms back along either side of the pine tree that he had been backed against.

"Nothing Mister Kuryakin says will make a difference to the amount of punishment he will take. On the other hand, Mister Solo? You will be able to stop it with a single word.  Just yell stop."

Napoleon wished at that very moment that the phrase 'if looks could kill' had real meaning. He glowered at their captor who just smiled in a maddening fashion as he made sure the thick cloth over Napoleon's mouth was still tight. He doubted he could even make a sound loud enough to make it across the garden, let alone get a sensible word out.

"There is a saying, Mister Solo. Do not speak unless it improves on silence."

Picking up a knotted rope that had been coiled at Napoleon's feet, Hodaka ran his fingers along the thin, coarse hemp with a smile that sent a cold shiver down Napoleon's spine as his gaze returned to his still unresponsive partner.

Hodaka made his way back around the edge of the garden, holding the rope almost lovingly in his left hand for a few moments as he reached out his right hand and traced along Illya's spine possessively as he spoke loudly enough for Napoleon to hear.

"They say pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. Let us see if your friend can embrace that philosophy, shall we?"

The rope was snapped across Illya's bare flesh and the arched back was the first sign that, if nothing else, Illya could feel what was happening. Wincing as the second blow struck, Napoleon pulled harder at his own bindings, but managed to do little more than make the ropes break his skin.  He could feel the trickling dampness, but couldn't be sure if it was sweat or blood.

After the fifth lash, Illya's head suddenly jerked up and he spoke. Napoleon's first thought was to wonder if the combination of the drugs and pain had made his partner mad. He couldn't think of any other reason for Illya popping out an odd question in the middle of torture.  Illya's voice was strained, but clear.

"Have you ever read the writings of Tsunetomo?"

To Napoleon's surprise, Hodaka stopped his arm before the sixth blow fell and frowned deeply. Letting the now bloody rope drop from his hand to the ground, Hodaka moved around until he was in front of the blond, staring deeply into the eyes that were as blue as any demon from the myths he had heard as a child.

"What do you know about Tsunetomo?"

When Illya remained mute, Hodaka drew out a short blade, pressing it against the Russian's chest just hard enough to draw blood and then drew the sharp edge along the length of one rib before driving the blade into the cherry tree to Illya's right. Drawing the twin to the first blade, he approached Illya again.

"I do not like to repeat myself. What do you know about Tsunetomo?"

Illya seemed to be totally ignoring both the blood trailing down toward his waistband and the threat of the second blade.

"You didn't answer my question, but since you know the name, then I assume you have read the Hagakure. Notice the rather large rock to itself that lies between myself and Napoleon?"

Turning toward Napoleon, Hodaka narrowed his eyes as he studied the rock with its patches of whites and mossy greens, taking a step closer to it as if that would provide an answer.

Napoleon's only warning was seeing Illya's hands grasping the ropes leading from his wrists to the trees. In a quick move, Illya made use of the tight ropes to brace himself, whipping his legs up to wrap around Hodaka, jerking him backwards.

Not being ready for an attack from behind, Hodaka lost his balance and fell onto his back. Illya didn't allow the man any recovery time, stomping down on Hodaka's throat with the heel of his foot as hard as he could. The struggle underneath him was brief as Illya shifted to put as much of his full body weight as he could onto that heel, not removing it from Hodaka's throat until he was quite sure that the man would never rise again.

The ropes at his wrists had apparently been fairly new as they had stretched a little bit from Illya throwing his full weight on them. Not a lot of give, but enough for him to start working his way free. Escape came quicker once he was able to work the one rope against the blade embedded into the right hand tree. Once his right hand was free, it was only a matter of minutes before he was removing the second blade from the dead man and heading over to free Napoleon, striding through and disrupting the patterns of the carefully raked sand and pebbles as if they were nothing.

For his part, Napoleon was happiest to have the stifling cloth removed from across his mouth. He took a deep breath, then gave Illya a look that combined gratitude and relief.

"Thanks, chum. What was all that about the Hagakure?"

"It was a somewhat controversial view of the Bushido."

"The Way of the Warrior? I've heard of that. What about it?"

"You recall he was quoting Zen philosophy to us? Part of the Hagakure says 'As everything in this world is but a sham, Death is the only sincerity.' Since he was trying to force me to embrace his philosophy, it seemed only fair to force him to sincerely embrace mine."

"Well, he does look sincerely dead."

"That he does, my friend. Shall we be on our way?"

"Definitely. We need to get your back seen to as well. By the way, Illya? Was there actually something that you saw in that one rock?"

"Yes, Napoleon. A red herring."

Sand Scripts - PicFic Tuesday

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

The man sitting at the edge of the garden was pensive, lost in thought amidst the serene surroundings.  Sitting on a rock that left him slightly off balance, he held a slender rod in one hand while his chin rested in the other.  All the while he was drawing in the sand, swirling patterns that told a story to no one save himself.

( lines in the sand... )

Sand Scripts - PicFic Tuesday

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

The man sitting at the edge of the garden was pensive, lost in thought amidst the serene surroundings.  Sitting on a rock that left him slightly off balance, he held a slender rod in one hand while his chin rested in the other.  All the while he was drawing in the sand, swirling patterns that told a story to no one save himself.

( lines in the sand... )

A Moment of Relaxation

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were in a nondescript brownstone in Park Slope, Brooklyn searching through the master bedroom of the THRUSH courier who was now lying dead downstairs on the kitchen floor.  They had hoped to surprise and take him prisoner.  Unfortunately, this particular bird had also been an experienced agent who refused to back down when confronted.  A firefight had ensued and Illya had dispatched the man with a headshot. 

( Read more... )

A Moment of Relaxation

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were in a nondescript brownstone in Park Slope, Brooklyn searching through the master bedroom of the THRUSH courier who was now lying dead downstairs on the kitchen floor.  They had hoped to surprise and take him prisoner.  Unfortunately, this particular bird had also been an experienced agent who refused to back down when confronted.  A firefight had ensued and Illya had dispatched the man with a headshot. 

( Read more... )

The Little Buddha Affair~ for PicFic Tuesday part 1

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

This has to be in two parts as the story was just a little too long for a single post, very frustrating...




“The serenity of a Zen garden is reflected in the balancing of the elements in an auspicious manner, allowing them to flow with the both heaven and earth. Feng shui in Chinese...a system of geomancy believed to use the laws of both heaven and earth to help one improve life by receiving positive qi.  The Tao of heaven and earth,” the Russian said to his partner when they first entered the green haven.

“We’re in Japan, if you’ve forgotten.” Napoleon quipped, as the two of them sat together on a small stone bench, most likely used by visitors for meditation.


( Read more... )

The Little Buddha Affair~ for PicFic Tuesday part 1

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

This has to be in two parts as the story was just a little too long for a single post, very frustrating...




“The serenity of a Zen garden is reflected in the balancing of the elements in an auspicious manner, allowing them to flow with the both heaven and earth. Feng shui in Chinese...a system of geomancy believed to use the laws of both heaven and earth to help one improve life by receiving positive qi.  The Tao of heaven and earth,” the Russian said to his partner when they first entered the green haven.

“We’re in Japan, if you’ve forgotten.” Napoleon quipped, as the two of them sat together on a small stone bench, most likely used by visitors for meditation.


( Read more... )

The Little Buddha Affair~ for PicFic Tuesday part 2

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Solo ignored him as he scanned the walls for a blind spot and quickly finding one he pointed it out to Hideaki. They’d brought with them some rope and a grappling hook, and as soon as the sun went down, they used it to scale the wall, and climb down a tall tree on the inside, landing silently on the soft grass.


( Read more... )

                                              
note: thanks to Lisa for the screen cap.

The Little Buddha Affair~ for PicFic Tuesday part 2

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Solo ignored him as he scanned the walls for a blind spot and quickly finding one he pointed it out to Hideaki. They’d brought with them some rope and a grappling hook, and as soon as the sun went down, they used it to scale the wall, and climb down a tall tree on the inside, landing silently on the soft grass.


( Read more... )

note: thanks to Lisa for the screen cap.

A Place to Rejuvenate - Picfic Tuesday

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

The affair had been completed successfully but then went from bad to worse.  A group of young victims were found died when Thrush had decided to silence anyone with knowledge of what they had been doing.  The two agents were disturbed by the useless waste of life.  After they had reported to Waverly, Illya had left UNCLE headquarters telling his partner he needed a place to think.

Napoleon had given his friend time to deal with the situation in his way, but when he didn’t answer his communicator became concern and went searching for him.  There were few places the Russian would go to reflect on what they might have done differently and as he reached the last one, he hoped to find Illya there.

He located him resting on one of grassy areas of the rock garden.  They sat not speaking until after a long time of silence, he said. 

“Illya, we could have done nothing.”

“I know that my friend, but we are expected to safe guard the innocent.”

“We both know we can’t always.”

Napoleon looked around the garden.  The perfection of it seemed to conflict with the evil they had just witnessed.

“Is it peace you find here?” Napoleon asked.

“I find this spot reminds me of the life we live.  Each element of the garden is symbolic of the world we protect.  The rocks represent the mountains we must overcome in our lives, the problems our enemies throw in our paths.  But on the other hand, it is also our firm beliefs and commitments that we use when fighting their evil.”

“The perfection of the lines in the sand represents the water or the flow of our life.  Always moving, connected but never straight.  Our fight is continuous never ending. So constant even if a footprint interrupts the pattern it can be quickly repaired one hopes with no permanent damage.”

Napoleon looked around the island of moss they sat on, “And this grass?”

“It is moss, and it represents the island or resting places of our life.  The places where we can catch our breath and think about what comes next.  It is our connection to nature and its tranquility.” 

Illya shrugged his shoulders, “That is what I see when I look out over this setting.”

“I always knew you were a deep thinker my friend, but I guess you still have many surprises for me.”

Napoleon offered him a hand up, “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.” 

“Japanese?” he asked smiling. 

As the two left, Illya looked back once more and felt some of the pain of their last encounter lift.  Once more, the garden had offered his soul, if he truly had one against his government’s orders, a place to rejuvenate.

A Place to Rejuvenate - Picfic Tuesday

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

The affair had been completed successfully but then went from bad to worse.  A group of young victims were found died when Thrush had decided to silence anyone with knowledge of what they had been doing.  The two agents were disturbed by the useless waste of life.  After they had reported to Waverly, Illya had left UNCLE headquarters telling his partner he needed a place to think.

Napoleon had given his friend time to deal with the situation in his way, but when he didn’t answer his communicator became concern and went searching for him.  There were few places the Russian would go to reflect on what they might have done differently and as he reached the last one, he hoped to find Illya there.

He located him resting on one of grassy areas of the rock garden.  They sat not speaking until after a long time of silence, he said. 

“Illya, we could have done nothing.”

“I know that my friend, but we are expected to safe guard the innocent.”

“We both know we can’t always.”

Napoleon looked around the garden.  The perfection of it seemed to conflict with the evil they had just witnessed.

“Is it peace you find here?” Napoleon asked.

“I find this spot reminds me of the life we live.  Each element of the garden is symbolic of the world we protect.  The rocks represent the mountains we must overcome in our lives, the problems our enemies throw in our paths.  But on the other hand, it is also our firm beliefs and commitments that we use when fighting their evil.”

“The perfection of the lines in the sand represents the water or the flow of our life.  Always moving, connected but never straight.  Our fight is continuous never ending. So constant even if a footprint interrupts the pattern it can be quickly repaired one hopes with no permanent damage.”

Napoleon looked around the island of moss they sat on, “And this grass?”

“It is moss, and it represents the island or resting places of our life.  The places where we can catch our breath and think about what comes next.  It is our connection to nature and its tranquility.” 

Illya shrugged his shoulders, “That is what I see when I look out over this setting.”

“I always knew you were a deep thinker my friend, but I guess you still have many surprises for me.”

Napoleon offered him a hand up, “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.” 

“Japanese?” he asked smiling. 

As the two left, Illya looked back once more and felt some of the pain of their last encounter lift.  Once more, the garden had offered his soul, if he truly had one against his government’s orders, a place to rejuvenate.

The Yesterday Affair - part 4

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Napoleon was waiting for the introduction, when suddenly it struck him how much the two blond men resembled.  As Illya was saying the words, Napoleon was already marveling at it.

( Read more... )

The Yesterday Affair - part 4

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Napoleon was waiting for the introduction, when suddenly it struck him how much the two blond men resembled.  As Illya was saying the words, Napoleon was already marveling at it.

( Read more... )