No Windmills Today - PicFic 10/15

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Just a note regarding something you'll recognize as maybe a little off the beaten track: Illya often hops onto something in one easy motion, then perches atop a railing, a bed... whatever.  I find it quite endearing.  I also found it irresistible as an anecdote.  Please, just go with it.
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Napoleon Solo and his partner, Illya Kuryakin, were seated beneath a brightly colored umbrella that fronted a small cantina in the coastal town of Ensenada, Baja California, Mexico.  Street vendors had been plying the Russian with local delicacies all day long: fish tacos, freshly caught lobster still encased in the red claws; churros, that sugary cinnamon pastry unique to Mexico.  All in all, Illya had eaten well and forestalled the usual boredom of surveillance work while Napoleon grimaced at his need to watch what he consumed lest he lose his boyish figure.  On the other side of the street a man peddled by on his bicycle, fully equipped for more hungry customers like the Russian.

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"Now do you believe?" ~for the PicFic Tuesday challenge 10/15

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                                         

Napoleon Solo and his Russian partner, Illya Kuraykin were winding down from their brief assignment in Veracruz, Mexico.  They were there in search of a purported lab, manufacturing heavy duty drugs for distribution in the United States, but it somehow turned out to be a red herring.

No lab, no drug dealers of any major repute, at least in this town.  There were others no doubt, dotted across the country, but none were believed to have been as large an operation here in along the coast in Veracruz.

“Well there are times we get bad intel,” Illya said as he sipped his cup of coffee. The two men were seated at an outdoor cafe, enjoying the view and a late lunch before heading off to catch their flight back to the States.

It was a puddle jumper as Solo called it, a Cessna out of a local airport taking them to Tampico to refuel and from there they’d head across the border to Galveston Texas. Lots of flying time on this one…. Once there they’d catch a flight with one of the larger carriers at Scholes Airport back to New York. Waverly wouldn’t be happy their time had been wasted, but it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last.

Illya caught a glimmer in his partners eyes, as he looked up from his cup. “What are you seeing?”

                                                       

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It Man From UNCLE month on CrackVan

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

The month is half over and I have been driving CrackVan this month and highlighting some of my favorite stories from MFU. I hope many of you are checking it out. Today is crossover day and there is still 15 more days to come. I was hard for me to choose just 15 stories and hope to do this again in the future to highlight more of my favorites.

MFU hasn't been highlighted in quite a while and I hope others will also consider do it. You are only responsible for posting 1 a week and 1 cross over, or as many as you would like.

Elmey has stated she would be willing to help anyone who wants to do it (she helped me and now it is very easy to do). I would also be willing to help.

Just swing on over to CrackVan and on left side click on the Man From UNCLE in the Monthly Featured Fandoms to see what I have posted.

Jkkitty

El Dia De Los Muertos for picfic Tuesday 10/8

[dixiebelle2013.livejournal.com]

Originally posted by dixiebelle2013 at El Dia De Los Muertos for picfic Tuesday 10/8

Maria de Jesus had been one of THRUSH's most formidable threats. From her secret lab deep in the heart of rural Mexico, she'd conducted all manner of unethical and, some said, even bizarre experiments. She'd met her end when her lab had finally been discovered and raided by a band of UNCLE agents, one of whom had put a bullet through her heart.

Yet, it was rumored that THRUSH had stolen her body and spirited it out of Mexico, then used a secret formula to reanimate it so that she could continue her nefarious work. It was only a rumor, Illya knew, but it still sent chills down his spine.

Now he'd been assigned to come to yet another lab in rural Mexico, this one run by a newly employed UNCLE agent, Consuelo La Viva, who was attempting to develop a formula for a food substitute, a highly nutritious energy supplement of compact size that could be utilized by UNCLE agents who ended up either imprisoned or stranded in inhospitable environments for long periods of time. It was hoped that Illya's sophisticated knowledge of organic chemical compounds would prove advantageous to Consuelo's research.

As he neared the pristine white building which he knew contained Consuelo's lab, Illya was approached by an obviously inebriated local who stumbled past him. Illya almost retched from the stench of tequila mixed with that of unwashed bodily filth.

Suddenly the man turned lucid eyes toward Illya and stared straight into the Russian's blue ones as he spoke a few words in English. "You must beware of black haired girls, Senor! Else, one will cause your death." The man then turned away from Illya, muttered a few words in Spanish, and then ambled on.

Illya shuddered as he struggled to put the incident out of his mind, soon arriving at the entrance to Consuelo's lab.

"Senor Kuryakin! It is a pleasure to meet you!" She pronounced his name 'Kurya-keen.' Her teeth looked very white against her tanned skin, and she had hair that was as dark as coal with eyes to match. Illya guessed that she must have at least some Aztec ancestry.

"It is nice to meet you as well, senorita. Please call me Illya." He smiled and shook her hand, which to him felt unnaturally cool to the touch. Perhaps she'd recently worked with specimens that had been refrigerated, Illya surmised as she led him back to the portion of the lab that was for his use.

Soon Illya was busy adding chemicals to test tubes and heating them over a Bunsen burner, recording his results in his journal. He became so absorbed in his work that he almost didn't even notice his stomach rumbling several hours later.

Suddenly he turned to see Consuelo smiling brilliantly at him and holding a large brown bag. "Time for a break, si?"

"I hope that you have something delicious in that bag." Illya grinned. "I am famished."

"Of course I intend to feed my new lab assistant well," Consuelo replied.

She led him to a picnic area behind the lab, and on a table beneath a large shade tree, she began to set out all manner of delicious food.

"This is indeed a meal fit for a king!" Illya exclaimed jubilantly.

"I hope that everything is to your liking," Consuelo told him.

While Illya ate voraciously, he couldn't help but notice that Consuelo merely picked at the food. After he'd finished, he was surprised to find that he was unnaturally sleepy, as if he'd somehow been administered a sedative.

"If you would like to take a siesta, Illya, that is fine," Consuelo told him. "It is the custom in my country. There is a small room with a cot adjacent to the lab if you would like to use that."

Illya thanked her and went to the room containing the cot. However, he was by now suspicious and, rather than lying down on the cot right away, he first swallowed a couple of caffeine pills and then lay down and feigned sleep.

Soon he became aware of muted voices coming from the other side of the door. Soundlessly, he arose from the cot and crept close enough to hear.

"I have finally perfected the formula," said Consuelo La Viva's voice. "Today they shall arise."

"And what of the UNCLE agent?" asked a male voice.

Consuelo laughed. "There is nothing to worry about. I put enough tranquilizers in his food to make him sleep for a week."

"Very good, Senora de Jesus," a different male voice complimented her.

Illya felt the hair stand up on his head. Consuelo La Viva was really Maria de Jesus! She'd somehow faked her way into the UNCLE organization as a double agent, seeking to use Illya's superior scientific skills to her own advantage.

Yet, what could he do? He was a man alone in a strange country. Napoleon was far away in New York. The only course of action he could see open to him was to return to the United States to gather reinforcements to destroy the lab and return Maria de Jesus to the netherworld, but by the time he could do all that, it might well be too late...

Meanwhile, in the small cemetery behind the church on the hill right behind the laboratory, long-dead joints and tendons stretched and creaked, and skeletal fingers pushed aside coffin lids, making their way through dirt toward blackened headstones...