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They were cornered, taking live rounds from every direction. It was like a wild west shootout as they were literally trapped in an old ghost town out in the middle of nowhere in Arizona.
It was high noon, but this wasn’t the O.K Corral. The men attacking them were determined to get the package the UNCLE agents were carrying...a vial of deadly Anthrax virus.
warning: a slight reference to 'het' but really very minor, and nothing graphic.
The piano player at the Cat’s Meow Club was tickling the ivory with abandon, beside him on the small stage, was a musician with a base viol joining the jazz riffs with enthusiasm, their combined talents were punctuated by the rhythmic stylings of a talented drummer, a madman named Buddy Rich.
Illya Kuryakin was sitting in the dark corner, dressed in his usual black suit and turtleneck, and sporting a pair of dark glasses as he tried to remain anonymous. He sipped a cup of cappuccino, nodding his head slightly in time with the beat of the music.
The Russian was in a rare mood, randy actually, though it was not his way to just go out and pick up a woman to satisfy his urges.
The piano player at the Cat’s Meow Club was tickling the ivory with abandon, beside him on the small stage, was a musician with a base viol joining the jazz riffs with enthusiasm, their combined talents were punctuated by the rhythmic stylings of a talented drummer, a madman named Buddy Rich.
Illya Kuryakin was sitting in the dark corner, dressed in his usual black suit and turtleneck, and sporting a pair of dark glasses as he tried to remain anonymous. He sipped a cup of cappuccino, nodding his head slightly in time with the beat of the music.
The Russian was in a rare mood, randy actually, though it was not his way to just go out and pick up a woman to satisfy his urges.